


What Once Was Lost (Will Soon be Found)

by MarsCosta, smugheadjonesthethird



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Callbacks, Character Development, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Feelings, Flashbacks, Fluffy moments amidst the angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jughead isn't all bad, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, caffeine induced delerium
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2020-06-02 23:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 68,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19451455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsCosta/pseuds/MarsCosta, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smugheadjonesthethird/pseuds/smugheadjonesthethird
Summary: ***(tied) Winner of the 6th BFFAs for Best Post High School fic***Five years ago, their love was everything. It was quick and intense, restless and wanton. But their desire for one another led them down a path they never thought they’d travel–the loss of their last bits of innocence were consumed by the last lick of their burning love.Despite everything, Betty is in a good place. She has everything she’s ever wanted. But a phone call and a slap from reality changes everything and sends her catapulting back to her former life. Back to the man she once loved. Back to the only man who could help her. Forced together by fate, Jughead and Betty team up and take on their painful history to find what they once thought was lost forever.





	1. They Can't Handle the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> [beginning notes to avoid story bottom notes]
> 
> HELLO ALL! WELCOME TO OUR NEW BABY! WE ARE SO EXCITED THAT YOU'RE HERE. 
> 
> No, seriously, we are _so_ excited you guys are here to read this brain baby. Mars came to me with this idea and there was literally no way for me to say no. I fell in love immediately. I hope you guys do, too. - Cyd
> 
> Really, you have no idea how excited we are to be sharing this with you. This idea was stuck in my head for a while before I had the nerve to ask Cyd if she wanted to write it with me and I'm so very happy she agreed because, let me tell you, this story is coming out better than anything I imagined. I'm so proud of what we created together! I hope you all enjoy it! - Mars
> 
> A HUGE shoutout from the highest rooftops to our amazing, rockstar betas: Alix (psychobetts) and Lyss (breathewords/bettscoopr). This would not be nearly what it is without you guys! Thank you thank you, a million times over. It will seriously never be enough.
> 
> come tumble with us! @itsmarscosta and @shrugheadjonesthethird. let us know what you think, we would LOVE to hear from you.

Betty watches from her window as the sea gently crawls over the white sand, the gray-blue of the waves contrasting with the cloudy morning sky. Today, for obvious and not-so-regrettable reasons, she hasn't gone for her morning run by the beach. As beautiful as the sight was, it was also somewhat ironic that Betty — someone who had never liked the beach — ended up living here in California of all places, enjoying the feeling of the sand on her toes and the view of sunsets instead of sunrises. When she feels a pair of arms wrap around her waist and lips press a kiss on the back of her neck, a small part of her nearly wishes she’d gone for her morning run instead.

Betty smiles, sending those thoughts away as she drags her eyes from the sea.

“Good morning, doll,” he says. As usual, she doesn’t let her face show how much the name _doll_ still bothers her, even after he’s used it for so long. 

“Good morning.” 

“I was thinking we could have breakfast at that waffle place we like.” 

Swallowing, she turns to him, a smile on her lips. “I have to get ready and go to work. Raincheck?” 

He smiles back, kissing her. “You work too much, doll.” 

She doesn't let the comment bother her, just sighs and tells herself that everyone says the same. Not that she really cares.

“I know. Someone has to, don't you think?” she replies as playfully as possible before walking back to the bedroom to get ready.

In the shower, she thinks about how this, her life, is everything she always wanted. Her life works, in all senses, as a well-oiled machine. From professional to personal, she can't complain about anything.

Betty currently works at the LA Times. She mostly writes articles on their website, but for the past couple of months, she’s been proudly writing _Column One_. Nothing makes her happier than having her work published in a real and important newspaper.

And then there’s Andrew. Fun, sweet, caring Andrew. They had been dating for over a year, and she couldn't have asked for a better man.

Her morning carries on, and she sticks to her routine perfectly. She doesn’t mind the monotony. In fact, her well-timed schedule is something she’s always been proud of.

Her day goes by quickly, and before she knows it she finds herself leaving work to drive Andrew to the airport, since he's going to Germany on a business trip for the next ten days.

It's Friday night, so upon arriving at home, Betty opens up a bottle of wine and settles down on her couch for some light reading before heading to bed for some much-needed rest.

The weekend is uneventful and with the exception of a dinner with a couple of friends from work on Saturday night, she does what she always does: her morning run, grocery shopping, and starting on some articles for the next week.

On Monday morning though, when she wakes up, something feels off. When she goes to the living room, she sees that the sea outside is restless and angry. The waves seem to swallow the sand. Betty guesses this is the reason for her bad mood — more than one person had told her that living too close to the sea can affect one’s emotions sometimes— but all in all, she has no reason to be feeling down. Today is just another day.

She's in the middle of a meeting, discussing upcoming articles for the the website, when one of the interns, Jenny, enters the room despite the _Do Not Disturb_ warning on the door. Her boss starts to reprimand the girl, but she just shakes her head.

“It's a call for Miss Cooper.” Turning to Betty, the girl continues. “It's your sister. She says it's urgent.”

Immediately Betty feels her chest tightening, her thoughts running loose inside her head as she wonders, imagines.

“Pol? What happened?” Her voice is frantic and she begins to panic, thinking the worst.

“It's Mom, Betty. She's in the hospital and… you need to come home.”

“I'm on my way.” 

She hangs up, and with the help of her boss and Jenny, she manages to be on a plane that same afternoon. If not for them, she’s not sure she would have managed to do anything, not since her head seemed to have filled with fumes.

As soon as she’s in New York, she's in a car driving back to her hometown, a place she hasn't set foot in almost five years. Betty calls Polly again, now with enough time to talk and listen.

The first thing her older sister says is that their mother has been sick for a while.

“Why am I only hearing about this now?” Betty demands as her sister tells her their mother has been in the hospital for the past couple of days. 

“Mom didn't want you to worry.” Polly's voice echoes inside the car.

“She didn't want me to worry? That's a terrible reason! I had the right to know! She's my mother, for God's sake!”

“Come on, Betty.” Her tone is patronizing, and Betty hates the way it makes her feel like she’s a petulant child and not a concerned adult. “You know how she is.”

“Still a shitty reason. _You_ should have said something.” That’s the least Polly should've done. It's their mother, after all. The only parent they really have in their lives. 

“I was just trying to respect her wishes.” 

“Jesus, Polly.” Betty groans at how normal and sympathetic Polly sounds, and she wants to slap her for being so frustratingly calm. “You never cared about what Mom wanted. Not really.” Instead of arguing, she hears her sister take a deep and loud breath.

“My past doesn't define me, Betty,” she says after a moment. “As brother Edgar taught me, I'm not that person anymore. I've transcended who I used to be.” Her reply makes Betty sigh and roll her eyes. She misses the days when it was _possible_ to argue with Polly. Now, her sister is a hippie zen-master who hugs trees, lights incense, and doesn’t, under any circumstances, argue with anyone about anything. It’s maddening to say the least.

“Whatever.” Betty gives up. “I should be there in an hour or so.”

“Drive safely, Betty.”

She hangs up, feeling an urge to scream her lungs out.

Betty's still mad at her sister upon arriving at the hospital.

“Just take me to see her, Polly,” she says as they meet up at the entrance. With a nod, Polly guides her inside. The silence between them is deafening and again, Betty curses the damn countryside cult that brainwashed her sister.

Polly finally speaks once they’re inside the elevator. “You should take a moment before going in. Your anger will only bring more negative energies to the room.” 

“Negative energies?” Betty pinches the bridge of her nose, again trying to stave off her visceral need to hit Polly. “Mom's _dying_ , Polly! She’s dying! Do you get that? _Jeez!_ Can you just shove the hocus pocus for a damn minute?!”

Thankfully the doors open then, preventing further conversation. Betty walks behind Polly, actually taking a breath, not because her sister told her to, but because she knows her mother doesn't need any sort of stress right now. It's logic; it has nothing to do with energies of any kind. 

Without a second look at Polly, Betty gently knocks on the door before entering the room “Mom?”

“Elizabeth.” Her mother's voice is low and Betty grapples for a moment with how frail she looks. For her entire life, Betty has known her mother to be a strong and proud woman—nothing like she is now in the hospital bed, pale and weak .

 _“Mom.”_ She walks up to the bed and carefully hugs her. Once they let go of each other, Betty has to wipe away a small tear. “How… how are you feeling, Mom?” She pushes the armchair to the side of her mother’s bed and sits.

Alice doesn’t answer the question. “There's something… I have to tell you, Betty,” she says with a dead-serious voice. “Give us a moment, Polly,” she asks, and Polly agrees with a nod and a smile.

Her sister is gone before Betty can stop her or understand what’s happening. “Mom? What's going on?” Betty realizes then that it has been years since she’d been alone in a room with her mother. She’d never anticipated it happening again. She can feel the pit in her stomach growing deeper as the seconds tick by, waiting for Alice to finally explain herself. 

“Certain things…” she begins, struggling to sit up a little straighter, “have a way of putting everything into a different perspective. This… situation,” she gestures around the room, “has made me look back on my life and I… I realize I’ve made some… mistakes.” She pauses for a moment, and it's clear she's having a hard time getting the thought out. “As a parent, one always tries to do what's best for their children, and at the time, I thought I was doing the right thing. Now I know I should have never made that decision in your place.”

“What are you talking about, Mom?” Although Betty can certainly pinpoint a couple of times when her mother was wrong, this conversation — _Alice Cooper_ admitting to having made a mistake — is completely foreign. It’s something she never expected to hear.

“I lied, Betty,” Alice says with a final tone. 

“Mom? What are you saying?” she asks, feeling her entire body tense up.

“Your child… she's alive.” 

Suddenly, it feels like the air has been sucked from her lungs.

“W-What?” Her question is barely a whisper as her entire body seems to react, trying to understand what she just heard.

“You were so young. You shouldn't have had to live with your mistake. I made sure the nuns found a good family for the baby. I lied because it was the only way for you to have the life you deserved!” 

Just listening, Betty can't find it in her to reply—maybe it’s because her mother’s words haven't fully reached her brain yet. Being home in Riverdale, sitting in the same room as her mother, none of it feels real. So who’s to say it is? “...A good life. A chance to leave Riverdale. A chance to be someone. And not be trapped on the Southside. It was the only way, Betty. I… I shouldn't have taken the decision out of your hands, but I thought I was doing the right thing. And although it was wrong, look at you! I—”

“You gave my baby away?” Finally finding her words, Betty pushes the chair back and gets up. “You gave her away and you told me she was _dead_?!”

Her mother has tears in her eyes. She’s crying. _How dare she._ “Betty, I was only doing what I believed to be the right thing!” Alice pleads. 

“The right thing?! What the hell is wrong with you?” She’s screaming so loudly that she alerts not only the nurses and other people on the floor, but also Polly. 

_“Where’s my child?!”_

“Betty! Stop!” Polly storms in. Betty is inches from throttling Alice. Polly steps in just in time to pull her sister away from their dying mother.

Along with the screaming, the beeping machines alert the medical team and Betty soon finds herself being escorted out of the hospital by security.

The night seems to engulf her as she stands in the middle of the nearly-empty parking lot. Is this a dream? It doesn't feel… real. Maybe she’s going to wake up in her bed soon and this crazy reality where her dying mother just confessed to having lied about the death of her baby would be just a dream. A nightmare.

She isn't sure how long she stands there before someone touches her arm, calls her name.

“Betty?” 

She looks up at Polly, seeing her rimmed eyes and an expression torn between sadness and shock. “I had no idea.” 

Betty nods. “She lied, Pol.” Her voice is a whisper and tears run down her face as she struggles to fully process everything she’s learned. 

“I know,” Polly says as she pulls her into a strong and comforting hug.

“Can we go?” Betty asks a while later, pulling away. “I can't stay here,” she says, looking at the hospital doors.

She doesn't argue when Polly asks for her car keys. Betty knows she isn't capable of driving anywhere right now, not with the way her hands are shaking.

Driving through the once familiar streets is bittersweet as memories from what seems like a lifetime ago flash in front of her eyes.

When they stop in front of Riverdale's only hotel, Betty gives Polly a thankful look.

“I figured it would be better than the alternative.” And she's right. The last place Betty wants to be is her old house, a place filled with so many bad memories.

After Polly checks them in and they're inside the room, Betty finally speaks.

“What am I going to do now, Polly?” She sounds lost and devastated. “I mean… what do people do in situations like this?” She runs both her hands through her hair. “I… I can't even think straight!”

Polly thinks for a moment before replying. “I… I don't know, Betty. Maybe in the morning we can go to the police?” The words linger in the air. “What do you remember from that day?” Her sister’s voice is quiet and gentle, but it still cuts deep through Betty. She doesn't like to think — much less talk — about that dreadful, rainy day at the Sisters of the Quiet Mercy’s medical wing.

“Not much,” she says after what feels like forever, trying and failing to keep the images from coming back to her. “I remember waking up in pain. Everything had been arranged beforehand and Mom — _she_ drove me there. Hours later, one of the sisters told the midwife there was something wrong. They took me to another room and I was told to start pushing.” 

Wrapping her arms around herself, Betty takes a few breaths to be able to continue. “When the baby was born… she never cried. I asked them what was going on, but someone injected something in my arm.” She pauses again, this time standing up to pace around the small room. “That's the last thing I know for sure. When I woke up… our mother dearest told me in tears that the baby didn't make it. And that was it.” She pauses again, shaking her head at the memories. “I should have known. I… I should have done something. Anything.”

“Betty? Betty, take a deep breath and look at me.” After years on the Farm, working with all kinds of troubled souls, Polly knows the telltale signs of a panic attack. “Betty.” She puts her hands on her sister's shoulders. “Listen to me. This is not your fault. There was nothing you could have done. Your trusted Mom and she betrayed you. This isn't on you, sis. Okay?”

“I shouldn't have trusted her. _Jesus!_ Jughead was — oh my god.” Betty's breath speeds up again. “Oh my God. _Jughead_. I never —”

“Betty. Breathe.” Polly guides her to sit on the bed, grabbing the complimentary bottle of water. “Take a deep breath. Here, drink this.”

“What have I done?” She sounds broken. 

“You did what grieving people do.” Polly says as tenderly as possible. “You can't reason with a mind struggling with the loss of a loved one. Especially in the way you did. You were still so young and you lost your baby. No one can blame you for acting the way you did. Were I in your shoes… I'd have moved away, too.”

“I never even called him, Polly. Mom told me she tried to call him when we were on our way to the nunnery, but she said he was doing a run for the Serpents and wasn't going to make it in time. I was so sad and so angry after everything. I was angry at him for not being there and I couldn't bring myself to hear his voice, so… I never called him. When I was leaving a few days later, she said she would let him know what happened. Can you imagine how that must have felt? To hear over the phone that your child died? That is if she even called at all. As far as I know that was probably a lie, too.”

Silence falls between the two, and Betty feels unable to keep talking, because… what could she say? Nothing makes sense and it’s almost as if her brain isn't working properly. As her mother's words echo inside her head, she keeps thinking of the small baby girl she had never held in her arms. The baby girl she thought was dead until a few hours ago. Before, she used to try not to think about the _what_ _ifs_ and the _what could have beens._ It wouldn't have been healthy or good. But _now_? She can't help but picture a young girl, playing and laughing and just… _being_.

“What am I going to do, Polly?” She repeats the question, this time even more unsure than before, because the more she thinks about it, the more complicated and impossible it all becomes.

“I… I still don't know what to say, Betty, but I can tell you that whatever you want to do, I'll be here for you.” Polly’s tone is supportive and understanding, but she doesn’t understand. Not really. 

They try to get some sleep after that, but just a few hours later, Betty is jolted awake by a nightmare in which she could hear a baby crying, but was held back by invisible hands that kept her from reaching out to take her daughter in her arms. Sleep refuses to come after that and she finds herself getting up as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake Polly, and heading to the room's balcony.

Rethinking everything once again brings Betty to a decision. While she had been confused and surprised and utterly angry before, she’s now determined. Determined to find her baby. But before anything else, she needs to undo the first mistake that led her to this exact moment.

Taking a deep breath, she takes her phone and dials a number she still knows by heart even after all these years. A number she never thought she would dial again.

It rings three times before he answers.

\---

Jughead is half slumped over on a bar stool in the Whyte Wyrm, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a half-finished cigarette in the other. He can feel the vibration of his phone on the bartop and he glances over to it. He vaguely recognizes the phone number, but it’s one he hasn’t seen in what feels like a lifetime. He gulps the rest of his drink down before he answers the phone mid-throat burn.

“Yeah?” his voice is raspy as he tries to breathe through the burn.

“Jughead?”

It’s a voice he’d recognize anywhere. He hadn’t heard it for the better part of five years, but it was one he’d never forget. Betty Cooper. She sounds the same, he thinks, if a little frantic. He’s thrown back to his senior year of high school in an instant.

\--

_They’d had a fight, but it wasn’t the worst they’d ever had. Jughead had gotten in deep with the Serpents without even meaning to and Betty was angry. She was seven months pregnant with their child and he was thrilled, but the only way he could think to provide for his growing family was to take the side jobs offered to him by his father._

_The jobs were getting increasingly more dangerous and he was coming home later and later, without regard for Betty or her sleep schedule. He was skipping class to go on runs with some of the older Serpents and he was getting into fights with Ghoulies left and right._

_Betty had had enough. She’d told him so and moved out of the Jones’ trailer, back in with her mother, who had never supported them. Not when they started dating, and certainly not when Betty announced her pregnancy._

_He hadn’t heard from her in a while. He knew she was due at any time, but she was radio silent. He wondered what was happening, if she was doing alright, if she’d even had the baby, or if she even still wanted the child with him._

_He’d fallen into a pit of despair, turning to the alcohol FP had hidden around the house and throwing himself into more dangerous situations. A phone call took him from his mission of finding the hidden vodka._

_He answers the phone as he’s still digging through cabinets and drawers to find the bottle. “Hello?”_

_“Jughead! It’s Polly Cooper. Listen, I don’t have much time, but Betty is leaving.”_

_“What do you mean she’s leaving?” Why on earth would Betty be leaving? She’s too far along to go anywhere, that’s insane._

_“After the baby died, she couldn’t stand to be here anymore. Said something about it hurting too much. I’m not sure, but I tried to talk her out of it.” Polly’s voice is quiet and fast and it sounds like she’s rifling through something._

_“What?” His throat goes dry. Did she say the baby died?_

_“You didn’t know?” She sounds genuinely shocked._

_“All I knew was that she was due any day.” He spits out before his brain catches up to him. “No one called me when she went into labor!” he snaps, his leg bounding up and down as he leans forward, trying to wrap his head around Polly’s words._

_“Mom said she tried, but you weren’t interested.”_

_“Of course she’d say that, she’s never liked me. She made that perfectly clear from the beginning.” His voice is bitter but he can’t help it. “Where is Betty going?”_

_“I don’t know, but I have to go.” Polly says, and then she promptly hangs up the phone and leaves Jughead alone with an atomic bomb of information._

_Jughead sits there dumbfounded, his heart racing and shattering at the same time. It thuds in his chest and he can feel the tears welling behind his eyes._

_“Um. Thanks, I guess.” Jughead says to the dead line before getting up and leaving his trailer, hopping on his bike and driving to nowhere in particular._

_\--_

“Juggie, is that you?” Betty’s voice pulls him out of the past and back to the uncomfortable barstool in his daily haunt.

“Betty.” His voice is taut, filled with anger and sorrow. “Didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.”

“Can you meet me? It’s really important. It’s something we need to talk about face-to-face.” She’s babbling, which if the past is anything to go on, means she’s worried or nervous or both. But in his half-drunken state, he doesn’t care. Or at least, he pushes the part of him that does out of the way.

“Oh, now it’s important?” He gets up from his barstool, makes his way outside, and lights another cigarette, taking a drag and huffing out the smoke. “But calling me when you went into labor wasn’t? Or what about when you skipped town and couldn’t even tell me that our child _died_ ? That wasn’t important, but this _is_?”

“Jughead, are you drunk?” She’s quiet and confused, he can hear it. And he can almost see her eyebrows furrow, her jaw slacken.

“Halfway there,” he grumbles, lifting his cigarette as if it were his drink. 

“Meet me tomorrow. Noon at Pop’s.”

“Noon. Whyte Wyrm. Or are you too good to come back to the Southside?”

“Fine.” She agrees without a fight, but he can hear it in her voice that she wants to.

“Great,” he says, snarky at best but he can’t find it in himself to care. She had hurt him, so what did he care if a few of his words hurt her, too?

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” her voice is quiet, almost sad compared to the frantic it had just been.

“Yeah.” That’s all he says before he hangs up the phone. He walks back into the bar and waves the bartender to pour him another drink. He watches as the bartender pours him three fingers of the same whiskey he’s been drinking for two weeks straight.

Hearing the voice he’d spent five years trying to forget was harder than he thought it would be. It wasn’t something he was prepared for in the slightest and to say it threw him for a loop would be a gross understatement. He knocks back his drink and slams the glass on the table. He lights up another cigarette and smokes it down quickly, snuffing out the butt in the glass tray next to him.

Suddenly, everything is too loud and he _needs_ to get out of the bar. He’d spent so long trying to bury his heartbreak in that very spot, but right now, it’s the last place he wants to be. He makes his way outside, stumbling over himself and knocking into the railing along the way. He steps off the final step, right into his best friend.

The tiny, pink-haired spitfire catches him with one arm over her shoulder.

“Woah there, buddy. Where ya headed?” Her voice is chiding, but there’s concern in there somewhere.

“It’s too loud in there. I need quiet. And air,” he slurs.

“Usually I have to pry you from your booth. That means something happened.”

Jughead points to his nose then gives her a thumbs up. “Nail on the head, Topaz. You always know.” He sways. He’s falling all over himself.

Toni pulls him off to the side, away from the entrance, and sits him down on a bench in the side alleyway. She sits next to him and takes a deep breath.

“Okay, lay it on me, Jones. Ghoulies threaten you again? FP still being a backseat King?”

“Worse.” He drops his head and suddenly finds the button on his shirt to be the most fascinating thing in the entire universe.

“You don’t think anything is worse than Penny and her ragtag group of Ghoulies.”

“I do when Betty Cooper is in town and wants to see me.” His fingers twirl a cigarette and ignite his lighter repeatedly.

“Wait, _what_ ? Betty Cooper who up and left town? The same Betty Cooper you’ve been drowning yourself in whiskey for over the last five years? _That_ Betty Cooper?”

“The one and only.” He lifts his finger to point it in the air, indicating her correct answer. His head hangs low, trying to steady his vision that had blurred before he even got up from his barstool.

“What the _fuck_ is _she_ doing in town?” She’s mad on his behalf, and he’s thankful someone can be strong enough to hold the grudge for him.

“I didn’t get that far. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.” He smacks his thighs dramatically and he tries to stand, but stumbles and crashes back into the bench.

Toni manages to get him back to the trailer. FP had moved out a few years back and into a new place with his girlfriend. Jughead didn’t mind it, though. FP was never coherent when he lived there anyways, but that wasn’t the point.

Toni plops him on his couch, throws a bottle of water at him and bids him good night. Just before she walks out the door, she turns back to look at Jughead.

“I know you don’t see it, but you’ve made progress in getting over her. Don’t let this send you back ten steps.”

Jughead waves her off dismissively. He can hear the door slam shut and he groans. She’s right, he knows it, but the prospect of having Betty back in his life is a little more than he can handle.

He sits there in silence for longer than he’d usually let himself. When it’s quiet his mind usually plays tricks on him, replays her voice over and over or conjures vivid images behind his eyelids of the last time he remembers being genuinely happy. Before she left.

Jughead tosses his head back in resignation and stands up moments later to walk to the bathroom. He runs the water as cold as he can get it, splashing some on his face before taking a handful to drink. He braces his hands around the edge of the porcelain and looks up into the mirror.

He doesn’t make it a habit to actually look at himself. He knows what he looks like, so he doesn’t deem it necessary. But now, his mind is whirling with pictures of blonde hair and pink-stained lips, so he takes a good, hard look at himself.

He doesn’t remember the bags under his eyes being so prominent, or the scar on his cheekbone looking so fierce. He’d stopped wearing his beanie right after she left and he let his hair grow to be unrulier than ever.

“Who the hell are you?” he mutters to himself as he tries to tear his eyes away from the mirror. He can’t seem to find the strength.

Eventually, he does and drags himself to his bedroom. He plops himself on the floor outside of his closet and reaches in to find a cardboard box. He pulls it closer and lifts the top. He sighs deeply as he looks down at the stacks of notebooks. Notebooks he’d filled in the days and weeks following her departure, following the death of his child. They’d decided not to find out the sex of the baby — they wanted it to be a surprise, so they couldn’t shove any preconceived notions of their parental craziness upon them. After five years, he still didn’t know.

After Polly had called him, he went to the Cooper house every night, hoping to catch a glimpse of his love, but her light remained off, her room shrouded in darkness. The room he’d first kissed her in. The room where everything changed.

\--

_He grabbed a notebook from the stacks that she’d given him over the course of their relationship. It was just something they did. For nearly every occasion, they’d gift each other a notebook in different designs and styles. The first was a black, leatherbound, lineless beauty she’d given him for his birthday the first year they were dating._

_He wrote furiously for hours, scribbling his inner rant of sorrow and grief. He didn’t know how to cope with the loss of a child, or the loss of his girlfriend. Sure, they’d been fighting more than normal, but he loved her — he never wanted her to leave in the first place._

_\--_

He runs his hands over the black, leatherbound books and flips through the pages.

**_Maybe if I’d just listened to her, none of this would have happened. Or maybe it would have? How could I ever have expected her to stay with a lowly Serpent like me? She deserves so much more than a rusted trailer and my words of adoration. I guess I just took it — took her — for granted._ **

He snaps the books shut and tosses it aside, then repeats the same steps another dozen times, thumbing through the inner thoughts of a rambling, broken man. It isn’t until the last page of the last notebook that he let the tears slip from his eyes again.

**_Maybe it’s for the best. It’s been so long and I haven’t heard a word. No matter how many dreams of her flash before me, she’s never going to come back._ **

**_She’s moved on, Jughead. So should you._ **

He really believed it to be true. He never thought she’d come back from wherever she was. After the first few months, he’d given up trying to reach her. Clearly, she didn’t want any part of him. Because of her mother, she thought he didn’t want any part of her, including their child.

She couldn’t have been more wrong. She must not have talked to Polly, he remembers thinking. Polly would have told her the truth. She always did have a soft spot for him.

He closes the last notebook and pulls himself from the floor. He tries to wipe the tears from his eyes, but he can’t remember the last time he let himself feel anything remotely real. He’d drown out her voice with alcohol, like his father had when his mother left. He’d tried to replace her touch with Southside women, using his boyish charm and bad boy demeanor to lure them into what he thought was something that could maybe one day mean something, but it never did.

He throws himself back on his bed, arms propped behind his head, and lets himself sit and stew in the quiet again.

\--

_He stumbled home around three in the morning, a year to the day he’d gotten that fateful phone call from Polly. Toni had convinced him that the only way to get over someone was to get under someone else. He never wanted it to be like that, but he took his best friend’s advice anyway._

_He let her in the door of the trailer and locked it behind them. He pressed her up against the wall and kissed her neck, burying himself in the smell of her coconut shampoo._ It should be vanilla _, he thought. He pushed the thought to the side and continued to grope and grab at the woman beneath his fingers._

 _He could hear her gasp as he reached a spot she seemed to like, but it sounded foreign to him._ Remind me to kick Toni’s ass for suggesting this later, _he thought. He already knew it was going to do nothing but make the gaping wound that was his heart worse._

 _“C’mon, Juggie,” she whined, but his lips were off her neck and he stared at her in disbelief. No one else had ever called him that — never even thought to. It was a name that only she could use, and this_ she _was not_ his _she._

_“You need to go,” he said abruptly, pulling himself off of her and opening the door. “This was a mistake.”_

_“What?”_

_“Just go,” Jughead nearly screamed._

_\--_

As Jughead’s eyes begin to close, he remembers that it did get easier. Over the course of five years, he was able to be with other women. But he knew those women would never mean anything to him the way Betty did.

He wasn’t the gentleman he’d been with Betty, but the shell of a man he’d become in the wake of her leaving. She’d left him broken, left to pick up the pieces of his life alone, with no guideline of how to be normal again.

He could hear her voice in his head as he went to sleep, echoing in his ears. _Juggie, is that you?_

He was still Jughead Jones, but he was no longer Juggie, and hadn’t been since the day she left the city limits of Riverdale.

He was Jughead Jones, Serpent King. Feared by most and flocked to by other lost, tormented souls who had so little self respect it made him look normal. Jughead Jones, who picked fights with Ghoulies just to feel something, who willingly almost got himself killed for the good of his family.

He’s not sure if she’d want this Jughead, but there was little he could do with the damage already done.

When he wakes up, the lights are streaming through his curtains and his head is throbbing. He turns himself over and tries to hide beneath his pillow. It’s not unusual for him to wake up with a hangover, especially not recently. He’d thrown himself so far into the Serpents and into the bottle that it happened more often than it didn’t.

He remembers, very vaguely, the night before. He doesn’t remember leaving the bar, or how he got home, but he is struck with a barrel of emotion like a strike of lightning to his heart.

“Betty,” he grumbles.

He slowly moves the pillow from over his face and pieces together the rest of his night. Toni brought him home. He sits up, looking over the floor at the usually hidden box of notebooks, now in plain sight with leather and paper strewn across the floor.

He remembers her saying that she needed to talk to him, that it was important. _But how important could it really be?_ He remembers thinking that the most important thing that had happened in their lives was swept under the rug, ignored and forgotten like the weeks old newspapers in a hoarder’s collection.

He glances over at the clock on his bedside table: 10:00. He can’t remember the last time he was awake so early. But that isn’t true. He can. And it was with her.

He throws his head back with a groan and stands up, running his tongue over his teeth. His mouth is always disgusting after a night of drinking. He stands up and turns on the shower, preparing himself for the day. He stands at the sink, brushing his teeth, mulling over the last five years of his life over and over again.

After his shower, he throws on his usual black jeans and flannel shirt, shoving his feet into the same black motorcycle boots he’d been wearing for as long as he can remember. He looks at himself in the mirror again, combing his fingers through his still-wet hair and eyeing his scars.

He hears his stomach rumble, but he knows he can’t go to Pop’s. It had been so long. After a deal gone wrong with the Ghoulies, he couldn’t show his face there again. Not after how he treated Pop. He hadn’t craved it in years but now all he wants to do is curl up in a booth like he’s sixteen again, with his best girl at his side and a shared plate of fries between them.

He sighs wistfully. He shakes the thought from his head, knowing it’s useless to let himself even think of those moments they’d shared. They’re different now. He doesn’t know her anymore. She doesn’t know him. And he’s certain she won’t want to.

He walks down to the main drag of the Southside and grabs the largest coffee he can find and something to tide him over until he can have a more substantial meal later. He heads back home, drink in one hand, food in the other.

By the time he gets home it’s 11:30 and he knows he has somewhere he needs to be. His mind is reeling and he still has no idea why she finally decided to get in touch. What could she possible have to say?.

Part of him doesn’t want to hear it, whatever it is. She chose to leave him behind, to live her life without him. After all their talk of the future, she disappeared without a trace. That part of him that had resigned himself to living out the Jones legacy of being the Serpent King and a career criminal, the part of himself he absolutely hated. The part of himself that took Betty from him to begin with.

The louder part of him — the part that hoped everyday that she’d call, the part that wrote in notebooks of love lost and unbearable heartbreak — _that_ part of him wanted to cling to her every word. Wanted to reach out and touch her, hold her tight and never let her go again.

To say he’s conflicted is a grave understatement. He grabs his keys from the hook by the door, slings on his jacket — the very jacket that was the beginning of their end — and tries to drown out that part of him that still says there’s hope.

He slings his leg over the seat of his motorcycle and drives to the bar that’s essentially his second home. He pulls in fast, billowing a cloud of gravel and dust. He sees that the parking lot is empty, for the most part. The only cars there belong to the people that live above the bar in the empty storage spaces; he’d converted it into apartments to provide extra housing for his Serpent family. He recognizes everything in the lot but one car. A small, very shiny, very out of place wagon.

He takes a deep breath before parking his bike where he always does, right next to the entrance. He pulls the helmet from his head and takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart, but it’s useless. He runs his fingers through his hair and resists the urge to look back at who he knows is behind him.

He dismounts his bike, slowly buckling his helmet to the side bag, and steels himself again.

“You’re doing just fine without her, Jones. Don’t let those beautiful green eyes of hers get your hopes up,” he mutters, giving himself a pep talk, but his inner monologue is throwing him off.

_I wonder if she still smells the same, or if that died along with our child. Maybe it’ll be like she never left and we can pick up exactly where we left off. I think this time I’ll be willing to bend a little, not like last time. She’s probably so different, probably dyed her hair and wears contacts just so she doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror. How could she stand to look at herself after what she did?_

But he takes one more deep breath, a real one, and holds it. He turns around slowly, just as she gets out of her car and slams the door shut. The air is knocked from his lungs as he comes face to face with her for the first time in five years.

She is just as beautiful as he remembers. Her blonde hair is still perfect, but it's down, out of the confines of the drastic ponytail her mother always insisted upon. Her skin is beautifully sunkissed and there are freckles in places she didn’t have them before.

He watches as she takes a step closer, clutching her bag at her side, looking around nervously. He can’t read the expression on her face across the distance between them. He briefly wonders if he’d be able to still read her at all… like he used to.

The next thing he knows, she’s an arm’s length away. It's the closest she’s been in half a decade and his heart is screaming at him to reach out and touch her already, to pull her into a hug and never let her out of his sight again. But his brain… his brain is quiet. Scared.

\--

She’d thought about this moment a few times over the years. About what it would be like to see him again. Obviously, this was nothing like anything she had conjured up in past nights, haunted by dreams and nightmares, and she was sure nothing could have prepared her for this exact moment. 

As she stands in front of him for the first time in five years, Betty struggles to find the right words to say. The part of her mind that's taking him in notes the uncanny way he looks just like the Jughead she used to know and like a completely different man all at the same time.

“Elizabeth.” 

It's only when he speaks that she realizes she never said anything at all, too lost in her thoughts.

“Let's head inside,” he says and Betty follows him through the bar’s threshold. She tries her best not to cough at the strong scent of cigarettes and booze that hits her.

“I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important,” she begins as he sits at a table — the King's table, as she remembers — and gestures for her to sit in front of him.

“What a great way to start.” He snorts and she regrets her words, knowing he misunderstood them.

“That wasn't what I meant. I'm here because I need your help.”

Jughead crosses his arms and his eyes lock on her as he shakes his head. “So you’re only here because you need something from me. You’re batting a thousand here, Cooper.”

“Look, I understand I'm the last person you want to see right now, but I meant it when I said it's important and that I need your help.” He doesn't say anything for a moment. She can feel him studying her.

“You’re not wrong,” he agrees, and she isn’t sure why but it hurts more than she thought it would. “Why do you need _my_ help?” His voice still sounds skeptical and hard and she can’t blame him.

She had a whole speech planned, but as he says those words, as he agrees to the fact that she’s the last person he wants to see and she imagines what he must think of her now, she crumbles. Tears she wasn't aware she still had leak from her eyes and stream down her face.

“Betty?” She’s clearly thrown him for a loop.

“I had no idea, Jughead. I trusted her. I trusted her and she lied. She lied to me and I… I don't know what to do.”

“What are you talking about? What happened? Who lied to you?”

Yesterday’s events flash in front of her and she can’t stop the tears. “My mother. She lied to me. The baby… the baby I had… the baby is alive. _Our_ baby is alive, Jughead.”

Jughead’s face pales and his eyes widen. He says nothing for a long moment, and every second of silence is deafening. 

“I need a drink,” he finally says. He’s on his feet, walking to the bar. 

“Did you hear what I just said?” she demands.

He nods. “Oh, I heard you just fine,” he states dryly. “And I need a drink.”

“That's your reaction?” she asks, not really believing her ears. “I just told you our child is alive somewhere, and all you can say is that you need a drink?”

“Actually, to be more accurate and honest, I think I'll need the entire bottle to be able to continue this conversation.”

She watches as he pours himself a glass of whiskey, and as he knocks it back without even flinching, she is suddenly reminded of FP Jones. The resemblance is deeply disturbing. She cringes as he pours himself another double and walks back.

“What happened to you, Jughead?” she whispers.

“What happened to me? What happened to _me_? It was like a fucking car crash, Betty. But while you were thrown clear to the other coast, I was the one stuck in the wreckage. And now you waltz back here after five years like nothing happened, to tell me that?” He takes another gulp, bigger than the last, and looks down into the now-empty glass. “How? How is it possible?”

.

.

.

_tbc_


	2. people change, too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to this adventure! We are so happy you're enjoying it thus far! -cyd
> 
> Hi! Here's the second chapter of our work. We hope you like it! - mars
> 
> As always a huge thank you to our amazing betas: Lyss and Alix. Without either of you this would be a jumbled mess of ideas and probably some kind of incoherent. We love you both! <3 - M&C -

He is studying her face. The tears streaking her cheeks, the anger behind her eyes. Yeah, he could still read her just fine. At least in this moment. This was the first time they’d shared the same air in years and it was her first glance at the new and not-so-improved Jughead Jones.

“My mother had a heart attack a couple of days ago and I came back as soon as I could. The doctor told Polly there's nothing more they can do other than make her comfortable right now.” He listens intently as she tells her tale, just like he always has.

“I'm sorry to hear that.” Despite everything, the terrible things and snide remarks thrown his way by Alice Cooper, he means it. 

“Don't be.” He watches as she mulls over where to go next, like she’s reliving it in her head before she can get the words out. “She told me she called you,” Betty continues, but she sounds like she’s keeping something from him, and he’s not entirely sure what it is. “She told me she called you but you were too busy and couldn’t be bothered. It all happened so fast—”

“Who’s she?” He finds himself cutting her off. If he’s going to hear her out, he wants every last detail. 

“My mother.”

“Of course,” he scoffs. Alice Cooper would have lied about that; she never did like the Jones men. Of course she would say things to hurt her daughter, to keep them apart. _Fucking bitch_ , he thinks.

“I had her and from what I can remember, they took me to a separate room and had to sedate me. When I woke up my mother was crying. She told me our daughter died from birthing complications.”

Jughead swallows hard around the lump in his throat. He never knew the child he was supposed to raise with Betty would have been a girl. They’d wanted to keep it a surprise. “Daughter?”

He pushes the glass away from him, suddenly wanting to pick it up and throw it against a wall. It would be a way for him to see an accurate representation of what his heart has looked like over the last five years. He resists.

“Yeah, Jug. A little girl,” she says. He can see the sadness behind her eyes right before she ducks her head, casting them down and away from his. 

“But Polly didn’t say anything about…”

“Wait, Polly?” Her head shoots up and she stares at him square in the eyes. She keeps the eye contact until it’s uncomfortable. She’s in there, his Betty, the girl he’d promised his life to. The one he would’ve done anything for. Even now, he’s sure she could get him to do just about anything.

“It was Polly who called me, not your mother. After everything. She didn’t say much, but she said you were leaving and that our baby… died and you couldn’t handle it, so you were leaving. She didn’t say where you were going.”

He remembers the phone call. He plays it forward and backward in his head trying to recall any clues he might have missed. But he always comes up empty. He feels his chest tighten and knows that no matter how much he drinks, it will never take the cruel sting of reality away from the situation. He glances back to the bar, but doesn’t get up for a refill. It isn’t going to solve or change anything. He can feel the tears prick in the back of his eyes. His daughter is still out there, somewhere. 

\--

_He promised Betty that when their child was brought into the world, he’d be nothing like his father. He’d be there for his family, provide for them as best he could. Change diapers and wake up in the middle of the night for feedings. He wanted to be better for Betty, for the unborn Jones._

_But the Serpents. His father was never around, but when he was, it wasn’t great. He didn’t even notice that Betty had moved in until it somehow inconvenienced him. Eventually, his father declared he was stepping down as Serpent King, and named his son as his successor. Jughead wasn’t ready. He never_ wanted _to be the Serpent King, but it was the only time that his father looked at him like he was proud of him, so he hesitantly accepted the nomination._

_Instead of meeting Betty for doctor’s appointments and being home for dinner, he was organizing runs and trying too hard to prove himself as a leader when he should have been proving himself as a father._

_\--_

He can see the anger rising in her face. Her cheeks still flush a bright pink when she gets mad. He watches as she runs her fingers through her hair before placing them gently in her lap, but he doesn’t miss the way they curl into her palms. He wants to reach out and unclench her fists but figures it isn’t his place anymore. He’s sure she’s got someone else to do that for her now. But he’s also sure no one would ever love and care for her like he does… did.

Just as she looks like she’s going to speak again, the door kicks open and in comes Toni. She’s standing there, staring at Betty with daggers behind her eyes. Her arms are crossed as she makes her way over to the table that he’s sharing with Betty. He rolls his eyes at her exaggerated, tough-girl persona. He knows she’s pulling out all the stops for Betty’s benefit.

“Can I talk to you?” Toni asks him, still staring right at Betty. 

“I’m in the middle of something, Toni. Can it wait?” He knows she’s mad on his behalf. He’s grateful for her, but right now is not the time or place for her to come to his defense.

“No, not really.”

His eyes flick over to Betty, who’s still sitting in silence, her eyes trained on the table. He isn’t sure if she’s mad or embarrassed or scared, but he knows Toni won’t drop this unless he goes with her.

“I’ll be right back.” He grabs the glass from the table and drops it on the bartop as he and Toni make their way to the back hallway.

“So, do we know why she’s here yet?”

“Yes.” He’s not offering anymore than that. He’s not done processing the information he’d gotten so far and he knows there’s going to be more to come. 

“What does —”

“I’ll tell you when I know more. But for now, I need you to leave.” His voice is stern, a warning for Toni not to question him. 

She salutes and slips out the back of the bar as Jughead makes his way back to find that Betty hasn’t moved an inch in his absence. She’s still looking down, her hands are still clenched. He runs a hand over his face. He isn’t ready for more information, but he wants it — needs it. 

He stays by the bar and looks at her. He contemplates saying something witty or profound, or one of the things he’s been thinking about for the last five years, but all that comes out is, “do you want some water or something?”

\--

He has no clue. And doesn't seem worried at all. Just like before. Right then, past sleepless nights flash in front of her eyes and she's set on not having a reprise.

“No. I better go. I don’t want to disrupt business. Serpents first, right?”

Her words seem to draw him back to the table. “No. You don't have to—” 

“That seemed pretty important. I can't do this right now. I’ll just go,” she says as she stands to leave. She looks at him again, shaking her head. “See you in another five years. I guess you don’t care.”

“How can you say that I don’t care? You haven’t even given me a chance to process the biggest news I’ve received in my entire _life_! But that just means that I don’t care? You didn’t think I cared then, and you still don’t. Clearly you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

His words cut right through her. 

“This was a mistake.” With nothing else to say, she rushes out of the bar. She hears him call her name, but the last thing she wants is to cry in front of him yet again. 

She's about to park her car at the hotel when she sees Polly's car already there. It serves as a bitter reminder of what Jughead had told her. Betty still doesn't want to think about her sister being involved in her mother's lies so instead she drives out and away from the hotel. 

As she drives around town, it dawns on her that she has nowhere to go. Of course, she could go to her old house, but with everything that happened there, it's the last place she wants to see. Remembering her teenage years, Betty suddenly knows exactly where to go. It was maybe the only place in all of Riverdale she could still think of with any sort of fondness left in her heart. Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe. 

Walking in is like magic, and she’s assaulted with memories of shared milkshakes, friendship, laughter and tears. Some of her best memories took place in Pop’s worn-down booths. And also some of her worst. 

From where she stands she can see the last booth, and for a moment she sees her 17-year-old self sitting there with shaky hands, eyes red and swollen from crying the entire night after finding out she’s pregnant. Up until she went into labor, that had been the most terrifying day of her life. 

“Are my eyes deceiving me, or am I seeing Betty Cooper in my diner?” Brushing the memories away, she smiles despite herself as she turns to see Pop Tate standing behind her.

“Hi, Pop!” She hugs him for a moment, feeling at home for the first time since she set foot back in Riverdale. 

Pop lets her go and stares at her with his dark and wise eyes. “It’s good to see you, girl! I wish it were under better circumstances, though. I’m sorry about your mom.” 

_Oh, the perks of living in a small town._ Of course everyone knew about her mother by now. Betty forces out a smile.

“Thank you, Pop.” 

“Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll bring you your old usual?” The mention of food makes her stomach rumble and she realizes she hasn’t eaten anything since that morning at the hotel. 

\--

“Hope you didn’t go far, Topaz. We’ve got work to do.”

Toni appears from behind the building with a smirk on her face. He wishes he could smack it right off, but he can’t and won’t. 

“She gone already? That was faster than I thought.”

“She left because she thought we had Serpent business to deal with and for some reason thinks she isn’t important enough to come first, which for the first time is no fault of my own, but your’s.”

“Whatever.” Toni rolls her eyes. “You said we’ve got work?”

“I need you to come with me to Riverdale General. I need muscle.”

“If you need muscle, get Sweets.”

“Can’t. He doesn’t hit women either. But you…”

“What’s this about?”

“We’re going to pay a little visit to Alice Cooper. Get more answers.”

“What are you talking about? Why are we going to see your ex’s mother?”

Jughead takes a deep, steadying breath. He still hasn’t processed the news, still isn’t even sure what he’s supposed to do with the information he’d been given. He needs to get the answers for himself. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Betty, but there’s something to be said about hearing it from the horse’s mouth.

“She lied. Our kid—” he hesitates, about to say the words for the first time, “—she’s alive. And I think Betty wants to find her. But first, we need information from Alice.”

“Okay. Wait. Slow way the fuck down. Your _what_ is _what_?!”

“My child, a little girl evidently, is alive. Alice lied to Betty and told her that she died during birth. Apparently, she decided to finally come clean to Betty because it doesn’t seem like she’s going to live much longer. That’s why she’s at Riverdale General.”

“What a scheming bitch,” Toni spits. Jughead had told Toni all about the terrible things Alice had done to him and Betty over the years, but this was the icing on the cake. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven. I figure a good ol’ Serpent interrogation should do the trick, and if not, that’s what I have you for.”

She nods her head slowly, as if still trying to wrap her head around what the hell was going on. He can’t blame her. So is he.

He walks off, back to his bike. He needs to find Betty. He knows it shouldn’t bother him as much as it does that she is upset with him. He shouldn’t care, but he does. And he’s pretty sure he always will.

He secures the helmet to his head and zips off toward the Northside. The town blurs around him as he focuses all his attention on finding her. He tells himself it’s for his sake as much as hers. For his own peace of mind. She was upset when she left — with Alice, with her sister, with him. She shouldn’t be alone like that. He’s just helping out an old friend.

He heads toward the only thing resembling a hotel in town, but there’s no sign of the car she’d showed up at the bar in. He racks his brain, trying to think of where else she could be. Elm Street, but would she really go to her mother’s house after finding out everything she had done?

He decides it's worth a shot anyway. He zips through town, making the hauntingly-familiar drive to the Cooper house. When he gets there, it looks deserted, a far cry from the beacon of light he remembers it being. There are no lights, no cars in the driveway, no sign of life. His eyes flicker to her bedroom window and his heart clenches.

\--

_For as long as Jughead could remember, Fred Andrews always left a ladder at the side of his house. He had to remember to thank the man one of these days for that, because without it, he would have never had the courage or the means to sneak up to Betty’s window when she was on lockdown._

_He made his way up the rungs, his heart pounding in his chest. He had no idea what his plan was, but he needed to make sure she was okay. He’d tried calling and texting, but everything was left unanswered. No doubt Alice Cooper’s doing._

_He took a deep breath before rapping his knuckles lightly against the glass to get her attention. He was watching her, sitting at her vanity. God, she was beautiful. She turned and looked at him, her smile untamable and because of him._

_He struggled a little to get the window open quietly, but she knelt in front of it to help._

_“Jug, what?”_

_He climbed in through the window, careful his footsteps weren’t heavy enough to give them away. They stood there, a few feet apart and he could barely register anything except the rib-splintering heartbeat in his chest. He could hear it in his ears._

_“You didn’t answer my texts. I got worried, so I’m here.”_

_“My mom took my phone. Apparently breaking curfew is a bigger deal for me that it ever was for Polly.”_

_“You were eight minutes late.” He cocked his head to the side. In what world did eight minutes late constitute social isolation?_

_She shrugged and took a few steps toward him. “Thanks for coming to check on me,” she said, her hands cupping his shoulders._

_His eyes flickered between her eyes and her lips for the third time since he came through the window, and he’d noticed it happening at a higher frequency in recent weeks. He wanted to know if they were as soft as they looked, if they’d taste like her chapstick. He’d done a great job hiding his growing affection for his best friend, but he couldn’t do it anymore._

_“What, Jug?” His eyes moved again, looking anywhere but at her. Maybe this was a mistake._

_Before he could turn away, she was closer than she’d been a moment earlier. Her hands moved from his shoulders to the lapels of his worn, denim sherpa jacket. She was looking at him just as intently as he was at her._

_Her voice was soft and her breath on his cheek. “Jughead, can I kiss you?”_

_It felt like his entire body was drained of its moisture. He couldn’t swallow, could barely respond. She wanted him, too? It was all he could do to nod and lean forward, ever so slightly._

_Their lips brushed together and his brain was firing on all cylinders, cataloging everything. Her lips were as soft as they looked, but she tasted like toothpaste, not chapstick. His hands made their way from hanging awkwardly at his side to cupping her neck as he held her in place, savoring the kiss as long as he could._

_She pulled away first and they took a deep breath in unison, matching smiles on their faces._

_\--_

He sighs heavily, wishing he could go back to how happy he was in that moment. He doesn’t think he’s been that happy in a very long time, and he’s sure he won’t be again any time soon.

He revs his bike and speeds off, away from the Cooper house. He’s wasted enough time there when he should be looking for Betty. He’s stopped at the end of Elm Street when it hits him. _Pop’s._ He groans to himself. The last time he let himself go to Pop’s he got into a brawl with some Ghoulies. To be fair, it wasn’t _entirely_ his fault, but he certainly leaned into it.

That was a few years ago. Maybe Pop has forgotten about it. But that man remembers everything. Jughead doesn’t care. He’ll take whatever that consequence is if it means finding Betty. He makes his way there and to his relief, he sees her car in the lot. It’s not terribly busy inside considering it’s still around lunch time, but he doesn’t want to go in quite yet.

He waits. He doesn’t know for how long, but he waits until it’s only his bike and her car in the parking lot. He’s smoked far too many cigarettes since he arrived, and he can see his pile of butts on the ground. He kicks at the dirt to cover them up. His feet lead him to the door and he opens it slowly, the chime overhead signalling his homecoming. His senses are assaulted all at once. It smells the same, like grease and happiness. The neon colors are just as bright as he remembers. The old jukebox is still crooning away in the back corner. He runs his hands over the vinyl seat closest to him and it feels the same. It feels like growing pains and mistakes, but for as many bad memories he has in Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe, he’s got more happy ones. 

For a minute, he thinks he sees his favorite shade of blonde sitting in a booth — their booth. He blinks his eyes shut and reopens them, but she’s there still with a vanilla milkshake in her grasp and suddenly, he is seventeen again.

\--

_She’d been avoiding his calls all day. He wasn’t entirely sure why. Things had been fine. A little strange, but fine. Betty had told him she was busy, but to go to Pop’s for their usual date night. She’d be there come hell or high water._

_When he walked in, the bell chimed and she looked up from her phone. Her smile was bright, eyes not rimmed in red for the first time in a long time, and she took his breath away. He slowly made his way to the table and sat down beside her, as he always did, and slung his arm across her shoulders._

_She curled into his side, the perfect fit._

_“You look happy today,” Jughead said, pressing his lips to her temple._

_“I am. I think I finally figured it out, and I’m sorry we fought about it, but something happened and…” She cut herself off, seeing Pop coming their way with their usual date night meals._

_Jughead looked to the tray he was carrying. Burgers, fries and two…and a half milkshakes? He looked at her, then back to the tray and to her again, very confused. When Pop walked away, she pulled a small, shiny rectangle photo from her notebook and slid it across the table, in front of the miniature milkshake glass filled half with vanilla, half with chocolate._

_“Juggie, I’m pregnant. And I know you know that already, but this time I don’t think I’m scared about it.”_

_He looked down at the sonogram. It confused him, sure. He didn’t entirely know what he was looking at. But the smile on Betty’s face was sheer excitement. He’d have been lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little happy about it, too._

_Sure, they were kids, not even out of high school yet, but they loved each other and that’s all they needed. Right?_

_\--_

“What are you doing in here, Jughead?” Pop’s voice resonates throughout the dinner, loud and harsh like Betty has never heard it before. She looks up, surprised to see Jughead standing there in his dark jeans and Serpent jacket. 

“No trouble, Pop. I swear,” he replies with his hands raised. “Something important came up and I knew she’d be here.”

She’s thankful there’s no one else in the diner other than the three of them, because this would have certainly been an interesting scene for the many gossips in Riverdale.

Jughead knocks on the table and with a sigh, she looks up. 

“Can I sit?” 

When she doesn’t say anything, he sits anyway. After a moment, she finally finds her voice. 

“Why are you here, Jughead?” she asks him quietly, feeling the exhaustion of the past day and a half finally catching up to her. 

“I’m here to apologize for before. It’s just... ” he runs a hand through his dark locks, “I’m at a loss here, Betty. I don’t know what to do. Or what to say. When Toni showed up, I should have told her to leave. I don’t want you to think anything is more important to me than what you have to say and that’s why I came to find you. I’m here and I’m listening. No interruptions, nothing else.” 

Betty studies his face for a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t know what else to say,” she says with a shrug. “All I know is that… our child is alive somewhere.” 

“What did your mother say?” 

“What I told you. As you can imagine, I didn’t really have the mind to think about asking her anything after hearing what she had done.” She closes her eyes for a moment, willing herself not to cry again. “I really don’t know what to do.” Polly had said they would go to the police station together, but that was obviously not happening right now. 

They sit in silence for a while, but she can feel his eyes on her. “Right now—and don’t take this the wrong way—I think you need some rest.” 

“Rest?” she snaps. “Really? The last thing I need is rest! I need to find my daughter!” 

“Our. _Our_ daughter, Betty,” he says, correcting her gently. She feels the urge to cry again upon hearing him say those words. _Our daughter._ “Look at me.” When she does, he surprises her by taking one of her hands between his own. The feel of his skin makes her heart race in a way it hasn’t in a very long time and she isn’t sure why. “We are going to find her. I promise you, okay? But in order for that to happen, I need you on your best game. Just rest for a couple of hours.” 

She hasn’t really slept since leaving California, and although she wants him to be wrong, she knows he’s not. Her things are still in the room Polly had rented the night before and she hopes her sister is still at the hospital. 

“Fine. Will you meet me at the hotel later?” 

“Actually,” he starts, sounding a little reticent. “You shouldn’t stay there.” 

“Why not?”

“It isn’t the best place in town and I think you know that. I’m pretty sure it isn’t up to code and I can’t even tell you the last time I actually saw a car in their parking lot.”

Betty knows Riverdale has changed a lot over the past years, but it’s not like she has a choice. And that’s what she tells him. “I have nowhere else to go.” 

“You do if you trust me. I don’t blame you if you don’t but I have a place where you can stay.”

She considers his words for a moment. Although she doesn’t really know where she stands on the whole trust thing, she knows anywhere is better than staying where she is. She doesn’t even allow herself to consider going to her old house. As far as she’s concerned that place is hell on Earth and she’d rather sleep on a bench at Pickens Park than go back there. 

“Fine. What do you have in mind?” 

“Well, I’m sure you don’t want to stay with me at the trailer. But,” he continues, “there’s my old apartment above the Whyte Wyrm. I haven’t stayed there in a while, so it’s empty and yours if you want it.” She holds back the questions that cross her mind for another time.

“Okay. I… I’ll stay there for a while, but just until I find another place. I don’t want to impose on you or the Serpents.” 

“Don’t worry about them. You won’t need to find another place. You’re not imposing on anything. Finding _our_ daughter is top priority. Okay?”

“Alright. I’m going to pay, and then I need to go to the hotel to grab my things.” 

“I’ll wait for you outside.” Before she can ask why, he’s already up and on his way out. 

As she’s taking out her wallet, Pop puts a hand over hers to stop her. “It’s on the house.”

“Pop, you don’t have to.” 

“Of course I do. Seeing you was all the payment I needed.” 

Betty smiles and hugs the old man again.“Just this once then, okay?”

He shakes his head, and she knows arguing with him won’t work. 

“Thank you, Pop. For everything.” 

She turns around to leave when his voice stops her. “Betty? I know some habits die hard, and others don’t die at all, but you need to be careful.” His warning voice startles her. “Not a lot is the same as it was when you left this town. And unfortunately, people change, too.” 

Betty knows he’s talking about Jughead. Through the door, she can see him outside smoking and she wonders what could have happened to make Pop Tate of all people say these things to her. Still, she decides against asking him what he means. Betty isn’t naive enough to think that being the leader of the Serpents hasn’t changed Jughead, but she doesn’t want to think about that now. Not when she needs to worry about finding their daughter. “I know. Don’t worry, Pop. Have a good night.” 

“You too, Betty. You too.”

Betty is grateful that Polly is nowhere to be found when she and Jughead go to the hotel. Half an hour after leaving Pop’s, she finds herself standing in front of the Whyte Wyrm. Unlike that morning, there are bikes parked outside, and she can hear the roar of the customers inside. 

“There’s a back entrance,” Jughead says, noticing the discomfort on her face. “Come on.” 

She follows him to the back of the bar, past the kitchen, and up a small staircase that leads them to the apartment upstairs. He lets them in the door and she looks around. It’s not anything special. Two doors, one presumably to a bedroom, the other to a bathroom. The kitchen is tiny but workable and the living space consists of a couch and a television. On the far wall, there’s a desk that looks like it hasn’t been touched in a while, and she remembers he said it was _his_ apartment once upon a time.

“One of my guys stayed here last week, so the place is clean enough for now. There’s clean linens and towels on the wardrobe. A few blankets, too. You should be set for tonight. We can figure out the rest in the morning.” 

“Thank you, Jughead.” She’s grateful for his hospitality. 

“No need to thank me. Just call if you need anything, okay?” He stands by the door for a second, as if wanting to say something, but then shaking his head he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. 

After making the bed and taking a shower, Betty sits and stares at her phone. First, she calls her boss to tell him that she’s going to need to use up all the personal days she has. When he gently asks for an explanation, she tells him her mother is in the hospital. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s not a lie, either. Since she hasn’t taken any vacation days in the two years she’s worked there, he tells her to take her time and to let the office know if she needs anything. 

She checks the time before her next phone call. It’s late in Germany, but she knows that Andrew always stays up late on these trips. It won’t be easy, but she knows what she needs to do. He answers almost immediately. 

“Hi, doll! How are you?” 

“Hey. I’m sorry it’s so late. I just thought I’d check in,” she lies, steeling her nerves for what she really wants to talk about.

“I just got back to the hotel. Late meeting tonight. How’s California?”

“It’s...uh…” _It’s now or never_ , she thinks. “Andrew… Look, we need to talk. I… I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.” _There_ , she thinks. She said it. 

“Wait. Can’t do what anymore?” The confusion in his voice is clear. 

“I know it seems out of the blue, but this — us — hasn’t worked for me in a while. I’m sorry. I really am.” 

“But—” 

She hangs up the phone before he can try to convince her otherwise, because she knows he will. She feels terrible. Not about the break-up itself, but for acting like a Hollywood douchebag and doing it over the phone.

She makes sure her phone is turned off before turning off the lights to try and get a few hours of sleep. 

\--

Jughead meets Toni outside of the Whyte Wyrm.

“You’re late,” she teases.

“By ten minutes.” He rolls his eyes and pats the back of his bike for Toni to get on. 

“Yeah, but Tammy Jackson’s waiting for us.” 

Jughead frowns at Toni, surprised, and she laughs.

“What? You didn’t really think we were going to break into the hospital, did you?” She hops on the back of her own bike and secures her helmet before they speed off into the night, side by side.

Mrs. Jackson is waiting for them at one of the service entrances, where she tells them they have until 3:00 a.m. before shift rotation. Jughead doesn’t intend to stick around that long. 

It’s easy enough to get to Alice’s room — the hospital is pretty desolate at this time of night. Once inside, he locks the door to be sure no one will interrupt them. Toni walks to stand by the side of the bed, looking at him for permission. 

“Wake her up.” 

In true Toni’s style, she starts poking Alice Cooper’s shoulder. He stations himself against the windowsill, his arms crossed over his chest, his ankles crossed in front of him. He stretches his neck in either direction as Alice starts to stir from being pestered.

“Wakey, wakey, Alice. Wicked people get no rest until they’re dead.” 

She wakes slowly at first, and then suddenly when she realizes there’s a looming presence around her. Alice jolts awake and it only takes her a second to see him, her face immediately hardening into her usual contempt-filled expression. 

“I think this is the part where I thank the heavens for having such a predictable daughter. I knew she would run straight back to the snake pit.” 

“Always a pleasure, Alice. But let’s cut the shit. You know why I’m here.” He barely recognizes his own voice. It’s sinister, nearly evil.

“Oh. Do I?” Her groggy cynicism ignites his anger. 

“I’m sure you still remember how a Serpent interrogation goes, Alice. You were a Serpent once, remember?” Much to his surprise, she laughs.

“A Serpent interrogation? Does my daughter even know you’re here, about to hit her sick and dying mother?”

“I have a policy against hitting women, which is why I brought my friend. She has no such policy. First question. Where’s my daughter?” 

“In a place where you and your snake blood can’t taint her.” 

“Wrong answer.”

He nods at Toni and she makes her way to Alice’s oxygen tank and slowly starts closing the valve, slowing the flow of the precious gas to her cannula. 

“Care to try that again?” Toni spits as her hands slowly continue to turn the knob.

“Where is my daughter, Alice?” Jughead’s jaw is set and he is seething. He needs to know. For himself. For Betty. They have to find her together. He promised her.

\---

There is a pit in Jughead’s stomach and it doesn’t go unnoticed that there is no moon in sight when he and Toni sneak out of Riverdale General. They walk in silence to where they parked. 

“Do you think she was telling the truth?” Toni finally asks as they reach the pair of bikes. 

“Honestly? I’m not sure. However… I _am_ sure that not even Alice Cooper could lie through her teeth while in that amount of pain.” 

“Well, if she did tell the truth, you got a name and a place to start. It's already better than what you had before.” He doesn't say anything at first, just watches Toni carefully. She’s looking at him with sympathetic eyes and he knows why. He never did like handling things the Serpent way, but he didn’t think they had another choice. “I know this was hard, but you did what you had to do.” 

“Did I? We just tortured a dying woman.” He feels deflated.

“Come on, Jug. Don't go to that place.” Her voice is soft and comforting. “Alice Cooper is hardly a dying woman. She's a vicious, evil bitch who lied to you, and not just some little white lie, either. And as for the dying part, this isn't dying. She's just getting ready to go to Hell and give the Devil a run for his money.” 

Toni certainly isn’t wrong. Alice Cooper has always been the bane of his existence. So why does he feel so bad? He chuckles at Toni and turns to look at her, but before he can say anything, she continues.

“That's the kind of person she is. And from where I stand… after what she did to her own daughter, to her barely born grandkid? She deserved a lot worse than what I just did.” Toni lets her words hang in the air for a moment. “We should go before anyone sees two Serpents hanging out on the right side of the tracks.”

\--

He’s too anxious to go home. He wouldn’t sleep, even if he tried. His mind is swirling with new information and he wants to tell Betty everything, but he knows she needs her rest. It’s late and she’s probably sleeping, but that doesn’t stop him from heading to the Whyte Wyrm anyway. He’ll wait until she wakes up, but in the meantime he needs to keep himself busy.

His body was buzzing, adrenaline courses through his veins. She has a name. Their daughter has a name. It’s a small nugget of information, but it blew Jughead’s world apart, made everything more real. His heart cracks in his chest as he thinks about what she could look like. More like Betty than him, he hopes.

Alice may have lied about other aspects of her story, but he saw the raw honesty in her eyes when she'd cracked and told them that. It wasn't a lie. He is going to hold on to every bit of truth he can until he can tell Betty and they can track her down together.

For now, Jughead busies himself around the bar — cleaning and doing inventory — things he used to do before being the Serpent King became even more dangerous than when his father had been at the helm. 

He finds Sweet Pea and Fangs holding up a wall in the back of the bar, watching the people around them go about their business. He approaches them, throwing a rag over his shoulder. He nods and they walk toward him.

“Sweets, Fangs.”

“Boss. Can we get you a drink?” Fangs goes to walk away, but Jughead stops him with a hand on the shoulder.

“No. I’m good. I need you guys to make sure no one goes upstairs for the foreseeable future. Consider it off-limits to _everyone_. If they don’t like it, they can take it up with me. Understood?”

‘Yes, sir,” they parrot in unison. Sweet Pea salutes and Fangs nods his agreement.

He’s surprised at how long it takes for the urge to drink to kick in. He’s been around alcohol for hours, but it’s not until he finally stops moving, stops focusing on random tasks at hand that the thought creeps in. Instead of giving in, he goes upstairs. He cannot blow this chance he’s been given with Betty.

He sits in front of Betty's door. He'll wait a little longer before he wakes her up. 

\--

Betty wakes up with the sun shining straight over her face. It takes her brain a moment to adjust to the light and to the feeling of actual rest. It’s still early, but she can’t wait to actually do something, anything, that can bring her closer to finding her daughter. 

The first thing she needs is coffee. Coffee, and then she'll call Jughead so they can go to the police station together. 

As she opens the door to leave, Betty is surprised by the sight of Jughead sitting in front of her door. His head is leaning against the wall, his eyes are closed, and he looks… peaceful. Peaceful in a way that reminds her of who he used to be before everything went up in flames. Why is he here though? Instead of being back in the trailer? Had he stayed here?

She's debating on whether to wake him up — because no matter how peaceful he seems, the floor cannot be comfortable — when the wood beneath her feet creaks. 

Jughead jumps awake. “Betty?” He passes a hand over his face. “What time is it?” 

“Uh, it's a little past eight. Did you sleep here?” 

“Oh. Uh, no. I… I had something to tell you, but you didn't answer your phone. I came here to talk but it was the middle of the night and you needed sleep, so I waited.” 

“You should've woken me up. It would have been better than sleeping on the floor, Jughead.” 

“Don't worry,” he says, stretching his arms. “I haven't been here long.”

The strangeness between them is nearly palpable and it bothers her more than she would care to admit. 

“What did you want to tell me?” Betty immediately sees the change on his face as he seems to remember whatever it is that he has to tell her.

Jughead gets up, running a hand through his messy hair. “Maybe we should go inside the apartment, sit down.” 

She fears what he has to say, because good news never starts with “maybe we should sit down.” 

“I'm fine standing. What is it?” He studies her face, not saying anything, and it annoys her. “Just tell me, Jughead!” 

“I… I went to see your mother last night. I figured she knew more than what she'd told you.”

At the mention of her mother, Betty feels her body tense up. “What did she say?” 

“Not much, but she did say she paid the nuns to arrange a closed adoption with a good family who would be able to take good care of our daughter.” 

The tension on her face turns to fear as she wonders what this means for them. What if their daughter is happy with the family that adopted her? What could they really do about that? They couldn’t just take her back. And even if she wanted to get to know them, would she be able to love two complete strangers? 

“Does she think that somehow makes what she did okay?” Betty asks.

Jughead shrugs. “And… she said something else, too.” He pauses, taking a breath. “She told me our daughter's name.”

“What?” Betty barely whispers, too appalled to say more. Jughead nods, and she notices there are tears in his eyes.

“Alice named her Matilda. She said she knew it was a name you were considering if we had a girl, and Matilda used to be your favorite book. Up until you discovered Nancy Drew, that is.” 

Her legs suddenly weaken and Betty has to lean against the wall to stay upright.“I… I need to sit down.” Jughead reaches out to her, his arms offering the support she needs, while he pushes the apartment door open, helping her to the old couch. 

Her mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions and memories. _Matilda._ Her baby girl’s name is Matilda. She remembers the day she told her mother.

She had just come from the five-month appointment, and Polly had been waiting for her in the kitchen, excited to know if she was going to have a nephew or a niece. 

_“We decided to leave it as a surprise.”_

_“Do you think that’s wise?” her mother said, suddenly appearing in the door. “Knowing the baby’s sex is extremely important, Elizabeth. How are you going to buy clothes, decorate a room, or even name it if you don’t know?”_

_It was the first time her mother showed an ounce of interest in her pregnancy._

_“As a matter of fact, Mom, Jughead and I already have a list.” She reached inside her purse, taking out her notebook to give it to her mother. “There. These are the names we like the most.”_

_Her mother took the notebook from the table, reading it out loud. “Atticus, Finn, Huck, Oliver, Holden. Jesus Christ, Forsythe the Fourth? Have you lost your mind, Betty?”_

_Rolling her eyes, Betty crosses her arms. “They’re just ideas, Mom.”_

_“And for girls, Scout, Audrey, Josephine — Betty, please. People will think you named your child after the leader of the Pussycats. Beatrice, Elinor and, oh! Matilda?” For the first time, Alice smiled._

_“Yeah, uhm, it was my favorite book.”_

_Nodding, her mother closed the notebook, putting it back on the table. “I remember. You were the youngest kid in all of Riverdale to have a fully-functioning library card. You were five.” She paused, coughing a little. “At least you’re not completely lost in all this, Elizabeth.” With that she’d walked away, and Betty knew that was the closest she would get to a compliment from her mother._

“Betty?” Jughead’s worried voice brings her back from her thoughts. It also makes her realize she’s still in his arms. 

“I’m sorry. I just need a minute.” She moves away from him and heads to grab a glass of water to help her get her shit together. _A name makes looking for her so much easier_ , she thinks. “Jughead, we need to go to the police. Now that we have a name, and what she told you about the closed adoption, they’ll have no reason not to believe us.” 

“We can’t do that, Betty.” 

“What? Why not? Jughead, this is my daughter we’re talking about. Whatever issues you have with the police, I don’t care.” He doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there with a weird expression on his face, so she keeps going. “You said no more Serpent business, no more interruptions. I get it, you’re the big bad evil Serpent King doing God knows what on your free time, but this is bigger than that.”

“Do you even hear yourself? Shit has changed around here, Betty. The _police_ here don’t fix things like they probably do out wherever the fuck you ran off to. Once they ran Keller out of town, things haven’t been the same. Minetta isn’t… he can’t… look, just trust me on this.” 

“Trust you? How do you expect me to trust you when even Pop Tate warned me to be careful around you? _Jesus Christ, Jughead!”_

His face drops. He runs a hand through his hair and she can tell he’s more aggravated than anything else.

“You used to.” His voice becomes completely monotone. “Things aren’t the same here anymore, Betty. It’s been five years. Things were bad before, but they’re worse now. Every authority figure in this town is corrupt and has his or her own agenda. Minetta can’t help us.”

“So how do you suggest we search for her, then?” 

“I have a guy who’s good with computers. He can help us get whatever records we need.”

Betty has to resist the urge to roll her eyes.“So the Serpents have a hacker now?” 

“Well, sure. We don’t use him that often, but we like to have someone who can help us when we need. And I know you don’t like the idea of having the Serpents help, but it’s the only way to get what we need _safely_.”

“Okay. Fine. We’ll do this your way. But mark my words, Jughead, if I so much as imagine you’re putting the Serpents first, this is over, you’re out, and I will find _my_ daughter on my own. Are we clear?” 

His face is less than happy, and when he smiles, it’s bitter. “Crystal.” He hesitates before pulling himself away and toward the door. “I’m gonna call my guy.” 

Jughead leaves her alone. When she looks down, she sees her hands are shaking. 

\--

He knew she was serious when she said she’d leave him behind, and her words cut deeper than he cares to admit. As it turns out, it seems he’s the only one holding onto any connection they might have shared. It hurts, but regardless, he can’t back out now. So he calls his hacker.

He’s pacing the hallway, waiting for the phone to stop ringing. When it finally does, he releases a deep breath.

“Termite, I don’t have long, but I need your skills. I can’t talk about it right now, but meet me in the back room of MLJ Comics tonight at six. Just you. Copy?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jughead hangs up the phone, but before he goes back into the apartment, he shoots a message to Toni and Sweet Pea. He needs to meet with them sooner rather than later.

_Jug: Wyrm. 9:30 a.m. My booth._

__._ _

__._ _

__._ _

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to let us know what you think!  
> Feedback is very very important to us!
> 
> Find us on tumblr: @itsmarscosta & @shrugheadjonesthethird or on the Bughead Family Discord!


	3. Lost in Translation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back to another excited chapters of WOWL! We are so happy you're back (or if you're binging, thank you for that, too!) Things have been pretty crazy so far, and I'd like to say they calm down some, but I don't want to lie to you guys. You don't deserve that. However, I will say that your comments and support have been amazing, and we are so grateful! 
> 
> We also want to shoutout again our amazing betas. Lyss & Alix, you two are amazing and both deserve every good thing in the world. If we could hug you, we would! <3
> 
> We hope you enjoy this new update! - Cyd & Mars.

He needs to focus all of his attention on Betty, on finding their daughter. He knows Betty was deadly serious when she said she’d do it on her own, and he can’t let that happen. He won’t allow it. He slowly lets himself back into the apartment, his ducks seemingly in a row.

He finds her where he left her. She hasn’t moved, it barely even looks like she’s breathing, but when she finally looks up, there are tears in her eyes and he hates everything.

“Tonight at six,” he says carefully as he takes a seat next to her. “Termite will meet us at MLJ and we’ll talk to him together.”

“Great,” she replies in a quiet and distant voice that breaks his heart.

“Look, I know it feels like we’re in an impossible situation, but we’re gonna figure this out.” She just nods, reaching out to grab her keys from the table.

“I’m going out to get something to eat.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah, of course.” He slaps his hands against his thighs, gets up, and heads toward the door. “I’ll swing by and pick you up to meet Termite.”

He doesn’t wait for her to answer before he walks out. He makes his way outside, lighting up a cigarette and taking a deep breath. He watches as she makes her way to her car and speeds away. He assumes she’s going to Pop’s again.

Jughead brushes his face in frustration. Just yesterday he was content living his life as the Serpent King, rallying his troops and fighting for what he thought was right. But now, the only thing he can focus on is the sadness in her eyes. Finding Matilda. He stays out back for a while longer, feeling the sunshine on his face like he hasn’t in years.

When he walks back in, they’re already waiting for him. Sweet Pea has a beer in one hand and his other is slung across the back of the booth. Toni is bouncing her leg so aggressively he can see it as he approaches.

“What’s this about, Jones?” Sweet Pea asks without preamble. “I left a very beautiful girl in my bed for this.” Of course, Jughead might be Serpent King, but Pea was the King of the Ladies.

“Whoever she is, she can wait.” He looks between his friends and takes a deep breath. “I have a favor to ask of you both.”

He waits for them to respond, but they don’t, at least not verbally. He drums his fingers on the table, trying to figure out the best way to ask.

“You two have been by my side for longer than I can remember. And I don’t trust anyone else to do what I’m about to ask.”

“Just spit it out, Jug,” Sweet Pea says, knowing tells of a reticent and stalling Jughead.

“I need you both to step up and take on some leadership responsibilities for a little while. I’m not sure how long right now.”

Toni looks at him, her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” _As a heart attack_ , he wants to say. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is more professional.

“Very.”

“What’s this about?” Sweet Pea demands, unable to understand what could possibly make Jughead give up even a part of his title.

“Something’s come up that needs my full attention. I can’t fuck it up.” Toni studies his face with knowing eyes for a moment before shaking her head as she leans back against the seat.

“This is about Betty, isn’t it?” she asks, seemingly unimpressed. Just as Jughead’s eyes fly to her, widening, Sweet Pea’s mouth gapes open.

“Wait a minute. Northside’s Pretty in Pink is back? Since when?” Sweet Pea isn’t dumb. He knows Betty Cooper being back means trouble. Jughead says nothing as Sweet Pea continues his tirade.

“So just because she’s suddenly back you’re stepping down? This is a fucking joke, right? Being King is not something you stop wanting out of the blue! Jug, you can’t be serious!”

“I’m deadly fucking serious, Sweet Pea. And yes, I’m well aware of what being King means. If you don’t want to do it, that’s fine. I’ll find someone else.” His voice is harsh and his fist slams the table.

“You know damn well you don’t need to find someone else,” Sweet Pea says in a more agreeing tone. “Just tell me something. If she wasn’t worth it then, why is she now? I mean, she did break your heart. And leaving like that was a straight bitch move.”

“She has _always_ been worth it, and I don’t want to hear another word about her from you. Understood?” Sweet Pea nods in agreement. “Now, are you guys going to help me, or am I going to have to ask my Dad to take over again? We all know how that will go.”

Sweet Pea exchanges a silent look with Toni before he shrugs, nodding.

“We’re in.” Toni speaks for both of them, not giving Sweet Pea a chance to say something even more stupid.

“Awesome,” Jughead says dryly, getting up. “That being said, if you guys need anything, you can text me. But try not to.”

Betty needs to calm herself down, so she drives around for a while before stopping at Pop's. Between learning her daughter's name and arguing with Jughead, she is already feeling mentally exhausted, and it isn't even eleven o'clock yet.

Deciding not to mind the state of her face, Betty just walks inside Pop's and ignores the few people staring at her. She opens the menu, even though she already knows exactly what she's going to order, hoping to stall the waitress just a little longer. A few minutes later, Pop Tate materializes in front of her anyway.

“Good morning, Betty,” he says with his signature warm smile.

“Hey, Pop.” That's when she notices he's holding a cellphone in his hand.

“You have a phone call,” he says. She narrows her eyes, wondering for a second who would possibly be calling Pop's to talk with _her._

“Uhm, thanks?” Betty says, accepting the phone from him.

“Hello?”

“Why did I have to hear from Madam Satan herself that you're back in Riverdale?" Betty relaxes a little when she hears the angry but familiar voice of her best friend.

“V, I’m sorry. Things have been crazy.”

“I can imagine, which is why you should've called me. I'm your best friend, B, and that's what friends are for. How's your Mom?” Of course, Veronica has no idea of what is really going on. No one other than Polly and Jughead knows.

“Give me a second.” She looks around to find people still staring. Getting up, she gestures to Pop so he knows she's just going outside. “I was just getting away from prying eyes and ears,” Betty tells Veronica as she unlocks her car and lowers herself into the driver’s seat.

“What's going on, Betty?”

She thinks for a moment on where to start, and she tells her friend the same thing Jughead told her earlier that day.

“Are you sitting down? You need to be seated for what I'm about to tell you.”

There's silence on Veronica's end as Betty finishes her story. It’s a testament to the weight of the situation — how Veronica is completely speechless when hardly anything, not even her father's crimes, have taken her words away before.

When she recovers, Veronica says the only thing she can possibly say.

“I'll be there as soon as I can, B. We'll find Mattie.” Tears spring immediately in Betty's eyes.

“Mattie?” she asks in a whisper.

“Of course. What kind of godmother would I be if I didn’t give her a proper nickname?”

\--

He gets back to his trailer and flings open the door. He takes a look around and wonders when his life became this chaotic. There are books and papers scattered across the living room coffee table and his laptop sits open, forgotten, next to them. He looks to the kitchen and sees empty bottles strewn across the countertop, coffee cups long forgotten. His stomach rumbles and he opens the fridge to find it empty of anything other than beer and half a bottle of whiskey. He reaches for the bottle, pulls back, then takes it out anyway.

And promptly pours it down the kitchen sink. He sets the coffee pot instead.

He cleans up the kitchen, throws all of the bottles into the recycling bin, and pulls a clean cup from the cabinet and fills it to the brim once the coffee pot is done percolating. He takes a healthy sip and walks into the living room to organize his workspace.

He misses his desk, but dragging it from the apartment back to the trailer would have been a royal pain in the ass, so he left it behind. He organizes his paperwork — course syllabi he’d printed, weekly course assignments, photocopies of textbook readings — the tell-tale signs of a man deranged.

Seeing a paper with that week’s assignments reminds him that it’s the end of the spring semester and he has a creative writing piece due soon. He had started it, but now that he looks back at it, he hates everything about it. It’s forced and verbose, and not in his usual way.

He wants something different, something to show his professor he’s improved and grown over the course of the semester. He was always told to write what he knows, and all he knows is the Serpents. That is until Betty walked back into his life like an unannounced breath of fresh air.

He sits to write and what pours from him isn’t his usual doom and gloom about harsh realities, but instead something brighter and airier and filled with a love he hasn’t let himself feel in far too long. It is certainly different, he thinks to himself.

After a solid chunk of time spent working — and nearly ten pages to show for his efforts — he downs another cup of coffee and double checks the time. It is only 1 p.m. when he hops in the shower and gets himself ready for their meeting with Termite. He knows it isn’t for another few hours, but he does it in an effort not to fall back asleep. Sleeping on the stairs was not in the original plan.

He grabs a bite to eat from a cafe around the corner from the trailer park and tries to figure out their best course of action.

Termite is good, but he’s only as good as the electronic records let him be. If there’s nothing for him to hack they’d be out of luck, and Jughead couldn’t bear to disappoint Betty again. That’s all the last five years has been in her eyes, he’s sure of it.

He makes a mental checklist of things to go over with Termite, but his mind is plagued with _what if’s_ and _now what’s_. If they were somehow able to track down Matilda, would she even want them? Would she want him? Would Betty?

Would she understand that they didn’t give her up, that they _always_ wanted her, but her grandmother was an evil shrew who couldn’t stand to see her own child happy?

He knows that would be a lot of pressure to put on a five-year-old girl, but these are the things he can’t get out of his head. He has a feeling this isn’t going to go as easily as he wants it to. He wants it for Betty, for himself, too, but mostly for her. She deserves to be reunited with her daughter — more than he does. He doesn’t deserve the potential happiness a child would bring to his life. He doesn’t want to raise her in a rusted tin-box surrounded by drugs and violence. She deserves the entire world, but he’s not sure he can give that to her.

Earlier that morning as she was leaving, Betty had been grateful for not seeing anyone around the Wyrm yet. However, as she parks her car and sees the tall man standing just in front of the back stairs, she rolls her eyes. Of course. _You spoke too soon,_ a voice sang in her head.

After debating for a while whether or not she should wait for him to go back inside before getting out of her car, Betty decides to bite the bullet. At some point, she would run into one of the Serpents. This was the Southside after all, and she was staying at their headquarters and spending time with their King. She wouldn't be able to avoid them forever.

Of course, it has to be _him._ Out of every Serpent she could find it had to be the giant with anger management issues. _Sweet Pea._

“Don't bother, _princess_ ,” he says as she gets close, beating her to the punch. “Jughead isn't here.”

Betty takes a moment to consider his words.

“I… know. Um, thanks,” she replies, reaching for the keys in her pocket and moving for the stairs.

“Wait a minute,” Sweet Pea says suddenly. “Where are—” He doesn't finish, just eyes the familiar snake keychain in her hands. “You’re staying upstairs? Is that why Jug told everyone the apartment was off limits?”

“I guess.” She shrugs, mentally thanking Jughead. He knew she wouldn't be comfortable around the Serpents.

“Oh, so not only are you back and making a mess, but you're also staying at the Wyrm? Jesus. Jones can be so gullible sometimes. Especially after what you did.”

She takes a deep breath, not wanting to let his words get to her.

“I'm well aware I'm everyone's least favorite person right now, but… don't talk about things you don't understand, okay?” Betty brushes past him and goes up to the apartment, locking the door behind her.

She busies herself with tidying up the place a little and making something to eat. Then, as time seems to not pass at all, she starts some research on her laptop about missing kids and the foster system in the tri-state area.

\--

At exactly 6pm, a knock sounds on the door. She opens it, and Jughead surprises her. He’s wearing black jeans, a black t-shirt, and his Serpents jacket, standing there in full Serpent King mode. He’s nothing like the boy her mind has so many fond memories of.

“Are you ready to go?”

Betty nods. “Yes. I just need my coat.” She turns to grab it from the bed when he speaks again.

“Um, leave your phone and your watch behind, please. The area is… complicated. No one will do anything with me there, but I’d rather not give them a motive to pay too much attention to you.” Not wanting another argument after what happened that morning, she nods again, not questioning him.

She grabs her car keys, heads to the door, and stops in front of him. She’s waiting for him to move, but he doesn't.

“Jughead?”

He looks from her face to her hands. “You're not taking your car. MLJ Comics is deep into the Southside, and way too close to the Ghoulie border for me to feel comfortable with having you drive there alone.”

Betty sighs in annoyance, slamming the car keys back on the small table by the door.

“How am I going then? Do you have a car?” she asks with her arms crossed, and Jughead just shakes his head.

“My bike will give us speed and more flexibility in case we need to leave in a hurry for some reason.” Bending down, he picks up something from the floor beside the door.

It’s the helmet she used to wear back in the day, when he'd first started riding bikes.

“Jesus. You still have that old thing?” She can’t help but wonder if there’s a reason why he kept it all these years.

Jughead gives her an amused expression. “It's just a helmet. Having an extra one is always handy.”

Betty rolls her eyes at his answer.

“Oh, I bet,” she shoots back, her voice filled with irony. “I mean, you must totally need it for every new piece of ass you have, riding that bike of yours every damn night.”

To her surprise, instead of getting angry, her words just make him laugh.

“What if I do, though?”

She passes by him, huffing.“You're an ass, Jughead.”

\--

Shock fills Betty as she stands in front of the old comic shop. The building is falling to pieces. The broken windows covered with old newspapers and pieces of cartoon boxes, the graffiti, and all the trash around the empty place are a far cry from the store she knew in her youth.

“Betty? You okay?” Jughead says from her side.

“Uhm, yeah. I'm fine. Let's go.”

Inside the shop isn't much better. Most of the shelves are either empty or broken, there's trash and dirt on the floor, and the air smells… funny.

“Termite?” He calls out, and his voice resonates through the shop.

A scrawny looking guy appears from behind the counter. “Boss,” he replies, saluting Jughead. “How can I he—” He stops when he notices Betty standing there as well, and he looks at his boss again.

“Termite, this is Betty. She's with me.” He puts an arm around her, pulling her close.

“Alright. Lemme just close down.” It takes him a few minutes to lock up, and Betty doesn't miss the amount of heavy chains and large padlocks he uses. “If you just follow me, we can talk business.”

He guides them through a narrow hallway and up some wooden stairs to a small, dark room filled with wires and computers. He cracks his knuckles once as he takes a seat in front of a computer like he’s signalling he’s ready to work.. “What do you need me to hack today, boss?”

“I need everything you can find from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy.”

He stares at Jughead for a moment.“The old nunnery?” Jughead nods, and after another look, Termite starts typing. “I doubt there’ll be a lot,” he says a moment later, and Betty’s chest tightens.

“Why do you say that?” Both Jughead and hacker guy stare at her, surprised by her question.

“Most places like that, they keep their stuff on paper for obvious reasons and besides, I don’t think the nuns knew how to use computers at all,” he replies laughing. “I mean, nuns and computers, you know?” She doesn’t have it in her to laugh knowing what that means for them.

“Keep going, Termite,” Jughead reprimands, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

The minutes don’t seem to pass as he types away. Ten minutes later — which feels more like forever — he speaks again. “I got it.” Jughead and Betty immediately are on his side of the desk, staring at the screen. “When they closed down a couple of years ago, the cops photographed all the archives as evidence. So, what am I looking for here, boss?”

Betty looks at Jughead, unsure of what they should tell him. Jughead gives her a small nod indicating that he understands her concern.

“Adoption papers, files about the younger kids there.” Termite doesn’t even blink as he types the information Jughead gives him. “Anything you have on that can help.”

Anxious, Betty starts pacing as much as the wires all over the floor allow her to. She can feel Jughead's eyes on her, but she doesn't look at him. .

“Lady, you're gonna open a hole in the floor pacing like that,” Termite pauses to tell her.

Jughead walks closer to her. “Let's go downstairs. Termite works better without anyone hovering over him.” Even though she wants to argue, Betty goes with him, back to the now-dark store.

She watches as he opens a small mini-bar hidden under the register and takes a bottle of water for her and a Coke for himself. As he hands her the water, she finally voices her concern. “Do you think he can do this?”

“Not that I have a lot of experience with cyber crimes, but Termite is the best at what he does. He's helped me and the Serpents several times before, and I trust he can help us now.” Taking a sip of the water, Betty nods.

“I'm just… I'm nervous,” she tells him quietly. Jughead reaches out, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I know,” he says, “Me, too.”

They sit in silence, lost in their thoughts.

**

Jughead is putting a lot of faith in Termite’s capabilities. All of it, in fact. Every ounce of faith he has left in him he’s putting into the skills of his brother in leather. He’s never tasked him with something this important before. In the past, it was little things — background checks, light digging with things that were far more accessible than an archaic nunnery with nothing but a papertrail.

Sure, he’s had Termite help him with some research for his writing projects and he’s had him help Mrs. Weiss, his old case worker on the Southside, but he couldn’t tell her that. If Weiss knew he was using unsavory resources to gain information, she probably wouldn’t let him help anymore, and that, he thinks, would be worse than anything. Especially since his working relationship with her is one of the few — if not the only — _normal_ things that he still has left in his life.

He sips at his soda nervously, wishing it was something stronger but knowing it can’t be. Termite is going to find something. He has to hold onto that or the anguish of not finding anything will rip him apart. It would rip Betty apart. He looks over to her and she’s just sitting there, zoned off thinking about God knows what. Of course, he has an idea of what she’s thinking about. It could be anything, but he is nearly certain it’s exactly what he’s thinking, too.

_I hope he finds something._

He is pacing the floor much like Betty was upstairs and it isn’t helping like he thought it would. He counts his steps from one end of the room to the other, tries to concentrate on them, but it isn’t helping. Each step is a step closer to possible answers and he’s growing impatient. What could possibly be taking so long?

He opens his mouth to speak to Betty when he’s interrupted.

**

_“Yo, Boss. You gotta see this.”_

When they get back upstairs, the look on Termite's face isn't very reassuring.

“What? What is it? What did you find?” Betty demands, unable to contain her agitation.

“I found the records, but I'm afraid they're all redacted. There’s no information. There are _thousands_ of pages, but it's just more of the same. Every single word is blacked-out, sometimes even the dates. The only thing that is always readable is the address and Sister Woodhouse’s signature.”

Betty pushes past Jughead so she can look at the screen. She needs to see it with her own eyes, just to be sure. She doesn't want to believe this is it—a dead end. How are they supposed to find Matilda now?

Her heart beats faster and her breaths become shorter. She feels tears start to trickle down her face and she presses her fingernails against her palms. The old, familiar pain is an anchor in the midst of the chaotic desperation in her mind.

“Betty.” Jughead's voice is strong as he sets his hands on her shoulders. Just as she looks up to his face, he looks down at her closed fists. A frown appears on his face, but he doesn't say anything. “Let's get you back to the apartment, okay?” She just nods, unable to speak. “Termite. Keep digging, alright? If anything, _anything_ at all comes up, you call me. Also, keep this whole thing to yourself. Not a word about it to anyone. Understood?”

“You got it, boss.”

Outside, the cold night air clears her head a little, offering her momentary solace, but it is nowhere near enough to comfort the emptiness she feels inside.

“Betty—” She doesn’t let him begin.

“I honestly believed we were going to find her. We were so close.” She hears her voice break and the tears fall down her face. “What if we can’t find her, Jughead? What am I going to do?”

Suddenly, his hands are on her face, directing her gaze to him. “Listen to me, Betty. I told you before and I’ll tell you as many times as I have to. We _are_ going to find her. I promise you that. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring her back to you… to us.” His words help to soothe her growing worry, but the pounding in her chest hasn’t subsided yet and the tears are still flowing.

“Tonight was just a roadblock. We’ve hit plenty of them before but we bounced back, remember? This won’t be different. But right now, I’m taking you back to the Wyrm. You’ll try to rest and tomorrow Toni’s friend will come over to try and help us, and we’ll try again. Okay?”

Her thoughts are running wild and there are so many things she wants to say, but instead, she quietly agrees. Taking the helmet, she hands him his, and waits as he climbs on the bike.

Finally back at the apartment, as she climbs the stairs, he asks her if she needs anything.

“No, Jug. Thank you. You’re right, I need to get some rest. I'm going to pick Veronica up first thing in the morning.”

Jughead nods, a small smile appearing on his face. “Good. It'll be good for you to have her here. Call me if you need anything. Good night, Betty.”

“Will do. Good night.”

Betty waits until the movement downstairs has died down. In the meantime, she pulls out an old black backpack she'd found in one of the cabinets. She gathers everything she thinks she'll need—a lantern, her portable battery, a lighter, a few bobby pins, and one of the knives she found in the kitchen. Just in case. Jughead did say Riverdale was dangerous.

It’s a little past four in the morning when she gets in her car and sets the navigation to the fastest route that will take her to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. When she gets there twenty minutes later, she needs to take a moment to compose herself. This place had always been creepy, but after everything she knows about it now, it’s more than that. It’s an embodiment of the night that has haunted her sleep like demons in the dark. It’s the place where her child was taken away from her before she even had a chance to see or hold her.

A few deep breaths later, she’s ready. She tucks the knife carefully into the waistband of her jeans and makes sure it’s concealed but still within reach should she need it. With the lantern in her hand and the backpack secured on her shoulders, Betty walks inside the now-abandoned building. Walking around the dark and cold hallways, she thinks that this would be a perfect place for one of those weird, ghost reality shows. It certainly has the history and it isn’t very hard to imagine lost souls lurking around, seeking revenge or something else.

She reaches a set of stairs and wonders for a moment which way she should check first— up or down. It’s then that she hears a noise. The floor creaking? Just as she turns around to light up the hallway, something grabs her from behind and everything goes dark.

\--

Jughead sits in his trailer, frustrated beyond belief. How is it that they came up completely empty? How do they have less information now than before they met with Termite? He sits with his hands in his hair trying to figure out their next course of action. There’s still Toni’s friend, someone who apparently knows a lot about the old sisters from Hell, and if by any chance that doesn’t work… Well, he has a way with getting information from people when they don’t want to give it. It’s not something he does all the time, and he certainly doesn't want to involve more people in this unless it’s absolutely necessary. More people with his reputation and line of work can mean more problems, and the last thing they need is more problems. He throws himself back against the couch, nearly screaming in frustration. If he hadn’t cleaned earlier, he would have surely thrown whatever was on the table in front of him dramatically into the wall.

There couldn’t be nothing. It’s impossible. There has to be something somewhere. He can not, and will not, accept that their daughter is simply gone and nowhere to be found. He resigns himself to trying to get some much-needed sleep, especially if their search was to continue the next day, possibly with Veronica’s help.

He wakes up every few hours even more frustrated than when he went to sleep the time before. His dreams are filled with faceless children, him running through crowds in search of his little girl, of Betty hysterical all over again, of him being utterly helpless. By the time the sun finally decides to peek through his curtains, he’s already sitting in the kitchen on his third cup of coffee. He had given up on sleeping hours ago and instead attempted to focus on something useful.

He was set to go to Southside Elementary, like he did twice a week. He worked with Mrs. Weiss, the social worker once again assigned to the Southside fosters, to help the unplaced children find some peace in their lives. They had a classroom reserved filled with books and crafts and cots for nap time and snacks. Anything these kids could need, Mrs. Weiss and the other volunteers provided, very often with the help of the Serpents.

He’d started going soon after Betty left Riverdale, after he’d heard of their lost child. It helped dull the ache for a short while, but after the first few weeks, it only made him miss what could have been, especially every now and then when someone would make a remark about how much of a natural he was with the kids.

He heads to Southside Elementary and sets up his usual spot with the younger kids. Today’s craft was peanut butter pinecone bird feeders. They had already double checked that none of the kids had a peanut allergy, because that would have been an absolute disaster. The last thing he wants after a sleepless night of overthinking is to have to take a child to the hospital.

The craft takes a little longer than he anticipated, but it’s a nice distraction. His phone has been unusually silent this morning and he assumed he would have heard from Betty already. He figures she’s enjoying some girl time with Veronica.

When their allotted time is up, much to the kids’ disappointment, Jughead bids them and Mrs. Weiss a good day and heads to the Whyte Wyrm, assuming that’s where Betty would go after picking up her friend. When he pulls in, he doesn’t see her car, but doesn’t think anything of it. They’re probably at Pop’s or stuck in traffic coming back from the airport. He shrugs it off and walks inside, busying himself by working behind the bar with Sweet Pea.

“I take it all has been quiet thus far, Sweets,” Jughead says as he washes a few rocks glasses and restacks them underneath the bar.

“Yessir,” Sweet Pea says rearranging the speed rack.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“You wanna to tell me what the princess is doing staying upstairs?”

“No, not really,” he says, slamming a glass on the bartop. “And don’t call her that.”

Jughead can almost hear Sweet Pea roll his eyes and he chooses to ignore it. They work together easily, like they have for years, as a few patrons trickle in. The usuals are in their places, beers full and laughter flowing.

Jughead takes his phone from his pocket, just to check to make sure it hasn’t shut off because there’s still no word from Betty. He’s starting to get concerned— it’s after midday and he hasn’t heard a peep. Her car still isn’t in the parking lot. For a second, he thinks about calling Pop’s to see if she’s there, but he figures that would be an overstep and decides against it.

He’s loading the few dirty glasses into a plastic tub to wash later when the door bursts open and the last of the sunlight streams in, leaving a silhouette in the doorway. He squints his eyes against the onslaught of light and then looks to Sweet Pea, who is staring in shock at the door.

A tiny brunette walks her way further into the bar, her heels clicking on the linoleum. He recognizes the sound first, then looks up to see the face that is no longer shrouded in shadow. Veronica Lodge in the flesh, looking far too shiny and put together for the likes of the Whyte Wyrm. He sees her trailing her designer luggage behind her and is mildly confused as to why she is still lugging it around.

Veronica stops halfway through the bar and she turns her head to look from Jughead to Sweet Pea. “Great,” she states in a tone that’s anything but great, “and this day just keeps getting fucking worse!” Veronica’s voice is shrill and Jughead would be lying if he said he’d missed it.

“Veronica. Nice to see you, as always,” he says, eyeing Sweet Pea, who seems to be trying to look smaller, as if that were possible. “Your morning with Betty didn’t go well?” Jughead asks, slinging a dishrag over his shoulder.

“What morning with Betty? She never showed up at the airport.” Veronica clicks the handle of her suitcase down and sits down on the hard plastic, her arms crossed over her chest. Jughead can tell she’s pissed. Her eyes keep flicking over to his co-worker, but he decides to ignore that for now as worry begins to stir awake in his chest.

“What do you mean she never showed up?”

“Exactly as I said, Jones. Elizabeth Cooper did not show up to pick me up as agreed upon. I waited two hours before finally deciding to call for a lift here. I had to speak with _my mother_ . I’m sure even you can infer that was the _last_ thing I wanted to do. She insisted one of her men pick me up instead of taking a rideshare.” Jughead sees her roll her eyes dramatically. It seems she hasn’t changed much at all.

“Betty isn’t here. She told me she was picking you up, so when I didn’t hear from her I assumed you ladies went off to do whatever it is girls do.”

“I’m sure that would have happened… if her phone wasn’t going straight to voicemail,” she says, her left heel tapping the floor in an accelerated and restless way.

The ripple of worry inside of him turns into a full wave, hitting him with a tsunami of concern. He isn’t entirely sure what to do with the feeling — it’s been so long since he felt this much all at once. His body is nearly vibrating with fear.

He runs from behind the bar and upstairs to his old apartment. He uses his spare key to open the door and looks frantically around for any sign of Betty.

Nothing looks out of the ordinary, but still, he looks around carefully. Everything seems in its place. The apartment isn’t very big, he’d be able to tell. The only thing he can tell is missing is her.

“Betty?” he calls out cautiously, still hoping she’s here. There’s no response and he’s in a full-blown panic by the time he’s back downstairs.

.

.

.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? How do we feel? Be sure to let us know either in the comments or find us on tumblr: **@itsmarscosta** and **@shrugheadjonesthethird** OR find us on the Bughead Family Discord (feel free to ask us how to sign up if you're not already on the server, we'd love to have you!)
> 
> See you next week for another update, friends!! <3


	4. One Step Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we ready to find out what the hell happened to Betty?
> 
> Sorry to leave y'all on such a cliffhanger, both Mars and I have been dealing with some real life stuff, so we postponed posting this chapter. We are terribly sorry for the wait!
> 
> Thanks, as always, to our rockstar betas - Alix and Lyss - for being absolutely amazing in every way possible. We love you both.
> 
> I won't keep you waiting anymore. Go forth, dear readers! - Cyd

The back of her head is pounding. It’s the first thing Betty feels upon waking.That, and something wet and warm at the nape of her neck. Probably blood. Whoever, or whatever, hit her, got her good. Her hands are handcuffed to a pipe on the wall in a way that twists her arms, making her shoulders and wrists throb. She feels a pit of fear in her stomach — and some annoyance — as she realizes Jughead had been right all along for worrying about her, saying Riverdale was no longer the safe town of their childhood. Betty hadn’t really doubted him, but she did think he had been exaggerating. Now here she was, experiencing all too literally just how dangerous Riverdale had become. 

Taking a few deep breaths, she tries to focus despite her aching head. Her backpack is nowhere to be seen and she can feel that her back pockets are empty as well. There’s still a bobby pin in her hair, but reaching it would be hard. Suddenly, a noise at the door cuts off her train of thought. 

Light shines on her face, blinding her for a moment. Once her eyes adjust, she can make out several figures standing in the doorway. 

“Well, well, well. Look who it is,” a woman’s voice calls out from the door as two of the figures come toward her. She assumes them to be Ghoulies based on the skull patches on their jackets

“Ponytail!” The woman’s tone is creepily cheerful and sweet, as if she and Betty were old acquaintances.“We haven’t been formally introduced before, but I know all about you, Betty Cooper. What brings you back from… where was it? Ah, Los Angeles, yes. I mean, it’s a long way from Riverdale.”

The pit in her stomach deepens with the woman’s words. 

Her mouth is dry but she manages to find her voice. “How do you know me?” 

The woman steps closer to her, her smile growing larger. Betty can make out some details now, despite the influx of light. She isn’t too tall and her hair is blonde and scraggly. Betty thinks at one point, some people may have considered her beautiful, but whatever happened in her life weathered her. Betty didn’t really care. All she knows is that this woman is holding her captive. She just wants to know why and how she knows her.

“You know, all snakes have a soft underbelly, and you happen to be just that for none other than that poor excuse of a Serpent King, Jughead Jones. I used to be known as the Snake Charmer up until that pretty boyfriend of yours got me kicked out of the Serpents, so let’s just say him and I go a long way back.”

_Snake Charmer._ Realization dawns on Betty. The woman in front of her is Penny Peabody, the very same one who had haunted Jughead when he first joined the Serpents, back when his father had been arrested. Betty is in deeper trouble than she originally imagined. 

Penny turns to her men. “I want her standing, boys. We’re overdue for some girl talk, Betty,” she says, the same psychotic, cheshire smile plastered on her face. “And I’d _really_ like to get to know you better.” 

The men wrench Betty into an upright position, and with a wave of Penny’s hand, they leave.Betty is sure she would rather have them stay than be alone with Penny Peabody.

She walks to stand in front of Betty, crossing her arms. 

“First things first. How's lover boy? I haven't seen him in a while.” 

Betty knows she must be very careful with her words and expressions because it's clear that this psychopath is looking for something on Jughead.

“Last I knew, he was fine.” 

Penny raises a brow at her.“Really? And when was that?” 

“A few days ago. He heard my mother was sick and he called me.” The best lie is one based in truth.

“How nice of him,” she says in a cheerful high-pitched voice, but just as this sympathy appears on her face, it's gone, replaced by frantic wide eyes and a wild expression. “You really expect me to believe that it was just a phone call?”

“I don't know what you want me to say. I came back because my mother is sick… she's… she's dying,” Betty says in a small, sad voice. “It's the first time I've spoken with Jughead in years and he called out of courtesy.” 

“Fine. Let's say you're only back because of your dying mother. That doesn't explain why you are here, instead of the hospital. What are you doing here?” 

“I heard about the Sisters being abandoned and I thought it would make for a nice editorial for the paper I work at.” 

“Now that's a lie. And a lie is the wrong answer, Ponytail.” The hard slap comes before Betty can blink; it stings across her cheek. “Why are you here?” 

“I'm looking for a story. I thought this place was empty and forsaken. I didn't even know the Ghoulies were still around! Had I known I wouldn't have come.”

Penny stares at her for a long moment. “So, Jones didn't send you and he doesn't know you’re here at all?”

She only nods her answer. 

“Well, I can actually work with that, Ponytail. You see, I'm going to use you to send a message to lover boy.” 

Betty doesn't dare ask her what she means, but as Penny cracks her knuckles, she braces herself. 

\--

Jughead paces the floor of the Whyte Wyrm in a full panic. He’s talking to himself, but Sweet Pea and Veronica don’t say anything or even try to make sense of what he’s saying.

“She’s probably just at the hospital. People turn their phones off at hospitals, right? That’s a thing they still require, isn’t it? Jesus fucking Christ, Betty, where the hell are you?” It’s more of the same, jumbled trains of thought, backpedaling and false starts before he turns and stares at the two people in the bar that he forgot existed for the last few minutes.

“You haven’t heard from her at all, Veronica?” He runs his hands through his hair and pulls at the ends in frustration, trying not to think of the fully-stocked bar twenty feet away from him. He knows this isn’t the time to drink. Betty could be in trouble and he needs to be coherent for her sake… just in case.

“Not since yesterday when she called me and told me about…” Jughead watches as Veronica eyes Sweet Pea cautiously. 

“About what? Spit it out!” He’s getting louder now, his worry and frustration finally starting to come to a head. He knows he shouldn’t take it out on Veronica, but he can’t help it. She’s there. 

“Does he know the real reason Betty is here?” She raises a carefully manicured eyebrow. 

He hasn’t told Sweet Pea why Betty is back, or why he is stepping down, but it seems that now is as good of a time as any.

“No. I was _trying_ to keep it quiet, just in case we can’t…” He takes a deep breath and turns to Sweet Pea, his best friend. His brother.

“What, did the coward get tired of running away?” Sweet Pea asks, his voice dripping with disdain. It takes nearly all of Jughead’s energy not to punch him square in the jaw. Before he can even open his mouth to retort, Veronica’s fist collides with Sweet Pea’s chest.

“Now is not the time for your bullshit vendetta, Sweets.” He’s proud of her for standing up to him. Most people wouldn’t dare speak to him that way. 

“Let’s not get physical now, Ronnie. We all know how that usually turns out for us,” Sweet Pea smirks.

Jughead frowns at the exchange but otherwise attempts to ignore its implications. In the moment, he isn’t concerned about the history between Sweet Pea and Veronica. He’s only concerned about Betty.

“ _Anyways_ ,” he interjects as he moves closer to his companions and lowers his voice, not trusting anyone currently in the bar. “Betty is back because… Well, first and foremost, her mother is dying in the hospital. But she also learned from her mother in some kind of deathbed confession that our kid is alive.”

Sweet Pea’s jaw drops. He was around when Betty left, helped pick Jughead up off the ground too many times in the aftermath to not understand the weight of the confession. 

“What the fuck?” He looks back and forth between Jughead and Veronica, still shocked.

“Yeah, that’s why she’s back. She was staying at that roach-infested, sad excuse of a hotel. That’s why I gave her my old apartment. That’s why I stepped down. My girls are the priority now.”

He hears Sweet Pea scoff and watches as Veronica backhands his shoulder. Maybe one day he’ll ask if there is still something going on between them, but for now he needs to find Betty.

“Veronica, can you call the hospital or Polly and see if Betty has been there in the last 24 hours? If she has, see if they’ll tell you what time. Sweets, call Pop and ask if he’s seen her. I’m going to call an emergency Serpent meeting. I think we’re going to need all hands on deck. I don’t know where she is, but I have a feeling that wherever she is, she isn’t safe.”

\--

Betty’s head is spinning and pounding and she can taste blood on her lips. After what seems like an eternity, the older woman stops hitting her and takes a step back. Penny stares at her as if she’s staring at a piece of art. 

“I think you're almost set.” Without warning, she punches Betty's right side, knocking the air out of her lungs. Pain swallows her, darkening the edges of her vision. “ _Now_ , you're ready to go.” 

“Y-you're letting me go?” She manages to sputter, and the question makes Penny laugh maniacally. 

“Of course I am! And not only that, but I’m also taking you home.” 

Betty feels her body tense. What if Penny has something worse in store for her? What if she kills her? She’s never really thought about dying before, but thinking about Matilda, she fears the final oblivion more than ever. 

“Please. I can leave on my own. I swear I’ll never come back.” 

“You're a long way from home, little girl. Either I give you a ride back to the Snake Pit or I can have one of my boys take you. It's your choice. And your funeral.” Penny laughs.

Betty doesn’t have a choice, not really. Again, she regrets not listening to Jughead. 

“Come on, Ponytail. Fear me not. It’s just a ride. I’m not going to kill you. You’re worth more alive.” She smiles again. “The boys are going to untie you and you’re going to be a good girl for me, okay?” 

\--

Jughead’s pacing increases as time passes. According to Veronica, Betty hasn’t been to the hospital since the night she arrived in town. Polly hasn’t heard from her and Pop said she was there the previous afternoon, but not since. 

The younger Serpents are gathered around waiting to see why they were summoned on such short notice. They speak to each other in hushed tones, watching Jughead and waiting for instruction.

He is just about to address them when the door bursts open and the bar is rendered silent. There’s a shadow moving closer to the doorway and Jughead can hear the sound of leather-clad arms readying for a fight if need be.

Two figures slowly hobble into the main area of the bar. The taller of the two throws the other to the ground. The bar is still so quiet that Jughead can hear the person on the floor whimper.

“Betty,” he whispers, but doesn’t move just yet. Her attacker looks up and finds his eyes almost immediately. “Fuck.”

He makes his way toward the girls, his fists clenched tight, trying his hardest not to rush to Betty’s side to make sure she is okay.

“There he is! The prodigal son.” She smiles in that way that always makes his skin crawl and he tries his hardest not to snarl. “I believe this belongs to you, Baby Jones. You know you can’t just let these things wander around unaccompanied.”

He watches as she nudges Betty’s weak form on the ground. 

“Let this be yet another lesson to you, Jonesy. Keep _out_ of my business. And don’t send Ponytail Princess where she doesn’t belong. Next time I won’t be this merciful with you and your snakes.” She looks down at Betty again and smirks. “Don’t forget what I’m capable of,” she says flicking the still-prominent scar on his face. “See you around, kid.”

Jughead watches as Penny nearly skips out of the bar, and he’s overcome with a vicious sense of deja vu. Only this time, it’s Betty instead of him lying battered on the floor. He kneels in front of her, thankful that everyone has the sense to stay quiet and not surround her.

He places two fingers on her throat, checking for a heart beat. _Thank God._ He starts whispering to her, small phrases meant to reassure her that she’s safe now. He can’t tell the extent of her injuries, but he doesn’t want to hurt her more. He coaxes her to a sitting position and signals to Sweet Pea to get her water.

He lifts her chin, cataloging her facial injuries and winces when he sees a gash that rivals his own souvenir from Penny. He thumbs just underneath it and she winces in pain.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He wishes he has more words of comfort to offer her, but he’s also trying not to lose his cool. Or cry. “Can you stand up?” She tries, but she’s weak and he lifts her nearly all the way to standing when she slumps into his side. “I got you. Let’s get you upstairs, okay?” He can feel her nod weakly and starts toward the stairs.

It is a struggle to get her up the steep flight, but they manage. He opens the door and walks her to the bathroom, setting her on the closed toilet to give her some stability. He flips on the light and takes her in fully.

She’s folded into herself, clutching her sides. Her eye has starting to swell from the gash just beneath it. She finally looks up and meets his eyes and he squats in front of her to see the extent of the damage in better light .

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, far too familiar with the tactics Penny must have used to torture her over the course of the past 24 hours. 

\--

Betty cringes involuntarily at his exclamation, certain that she looks as bad as she feels. “I should’ve listened to you,” she tells him quietly after a moment. 

“What happened, Betty?” 

She winces as she shakes her head back and forth. The last thing she wants right now is to relive the past few hours. Silence falls when he doesn’t push her for more details and even though she doesn’t want to talk about it, her mind is replaying the events of the day on a loop. The words Penny said as she left sound particularly loud in her head, making her feel worse and more shaken than ever. “She threatened everyone here because of me.” 

“Don’t worry about that. Penny has been making threats since long before you came back,” he tells her with an unconcerned tone. A light knock on the opened door makes them both turn to see Sweet Pea standing there with a red first aid box in his hands. 

“I just figured this would come in handy,” Sweet Pea says, offering the kit to Jughead. Betty looks up to him and offers a weak smile. It may have looked like a first aid kit, but it was an olive branch, and she was willing to accept it. He nods in return, reaching for the doorknob. 

“Thanks, Pea. Keep everyone on high alert, at least for tonight, just in case.” Saluting, the taller Serpent closes the door, leaving them alone once again. 

“You were talking about Penny,” Betty tells him as he sifts through the medical supplies. 

“I was,” he says, not looking up from the kit.

This moment with him — the bandages, bruises, and bleeding — brings back memories she thought she buried away. She recalls the time when she was the one patching him up. It was just after he had been transferred to Southside High, when the hate-filled Ghoulies had jumped him for the first time. That run-in played a big role in his decision to join the Serpents, which she now sees as the beginning of the end for them. 

“This is going to sting,” he warns her just before pressing the gauze over the cut on her cheek. He’s gentle with her, just as she was with him all those years ago, but all she can do is focus on the burning pain on her face. 

She looks him in the eye, really takes him in for the first time since they reunited, and spies the scar high on his cheekbone, just about where she suspects she’ll now have one. She reaches her hand up carefully and traces her fingers over it. He startles, seemingly surprised by her actions, but she doesn’t take it to heart. 

“What happened?” she asks, her voice still a little strained. She’s overwhelmed by emotion and she isn’t entirely sure what to make of it.

“Don’t worry about it.” He’s a little snappy, but he stops his ministrations on her cheek and takes a deep breath, leaning back on his heels. “Sorry. The short story is that Penny Peabody happened.”

“What about the long story?”

With that simple question, he’s back in the basement of the House of the Dead four years earlier.

_“I won’t tell you a goddamn thing, Peabody!” Jughead spat. There was blood dripping from just about every opening in his face, plus a few more that she’d created herself with brass knuckles._

_“Typical Jones,” she tutted, growing increasingly more frustrated as the hours ticked by._

_Jughead had been kidnapped nearly two days prior and he still wasn’t talking. Someone had torched the Ghoulie’s drug stash and Penny wanted to know who. She claimed a ‘reputable source’ saw Serpent jackets fleeing the scene, but he didn’t believe her._

_He knew who had done it. It wasn’t a Serpent, but who was he to sell out his best friend’s girlfriend? He’d known Veronica had done it as a way to hurt her father, and it had worked to an extent, but in her haste, she accidentally left Jughead to cover her tracks. He was left to protect Veronica. To protect Archie. And mostly, somehow to protect Betty._

_The next time a fist collided with his jaw, it was from a different direction. Someone else must have come in to assist Penny in her dastardly plan while he was unconscious. He felt his jaw crack on contact and spat blood across the room at Penny’s feet._

_“You had enough yet, kid?” Penny laughed, watching as her Ghoulie associate readied himself to take another swing at Jughead._

_“I’m not entirely sure how many times I have to say it, Penny. I’m not going to tell you anything.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, making sure they were all in place, and thankfully they were._ Maybe not for long _, he thought, because out of the corner of his eye he saw the other Ghoulie wind up to hit him again. Before the blow came, Penny waved him off and started walking toward Jughead, who was tied up in a supremely uncomfortable wicker chair._

_Her steps were small and measured, her heeled boots clacking against the cement floor and echoing in the windowless room. He had no idea what time it was, or even what day it was. Being in and out of consciousness would do that to a person._

_She crouched in front of him and pulled something small and metallic from her pocket. She flipped it open, revealing a small, sharp blade. She took the tip of the blade and pressed it hard into his cheek, flicking her wrist to the side, slicing open the skin and watching the blood pour from the fresh wound._

_Jughead winced and gritted his teeth, trying not to scream._

_“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today, Jonesy. I know you have the information I want, and I’ll get it from you somehow. This isn’t over. Let’s just hope you’ve learned what I’m actually capable of.” She took the blade and cut the rope free, letting Jughead fall face first to the ground. He could hear her and her associate laughing maniacally as he struggled to get up._

_As soon as he could, he stood up and stumbled toward the open door behind them._

“Needless to say, it wasn’t a very good time to be me.” He shrugs as he continues to dab at the wounds on her face with an antiseptic wipe.

He never meant for any of this to happen. He always thought his status as Serpent King would serve to protect Betty. Turns out it didn’t help a bit and instead, had put a target on her back. All the lies he’s told himself over the years to justify his decision to dig himself deeper in with the Serpents came crumbling down around him, leaving him with nothing but guilt. He would eventually get to the bottom of whatever happened to her, but for now, his mind is whirling with the _what if_ s and could _have beens_. 

She waits a minute to see if he’s going to say more. He doesn’t, and as he keeps taking care of her wounds Betty feels her heart ache for him and this cruel life that swallowed him whole. His dreams of moving to New York to be a writer had been crushed the moment his father had been arrested for drug trafficking, and his life was never the same again. From entering the foster system because his mother didn’t care to going to Southside High to finally joining the Serpents, he abandoned his hopes once and for all. 

For the first time in years, Betty finds herself wondering how their lives would have turned out if she hadn’t gotten pregnant. She used to wonder about that a lot, especially during darker days, when all she could think about was the baby she’d lost. Now, she also wonders how everything would have been if her heartless mother hadn’t taken Matilda from them. 

Jughead had been in deep with the Serpents by then, but not like he is now. Would she have been able to help him leave? Would they have been able to move past all their problems to build a family and a home for their baby girl? 

He drops his hand from her face and he looks at her with sadness in his eyes. “Where’d you go up here?” he asks, tapping carefully on her temple. It’s something he used to do frequently when she would zone out.

“I just… Do you…” Her words are stuck in her throat and she swallows around them, determined to get them out. “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like… What our lives could have been?”

It takes him a minute to respond, but when he does, his answer surprises her.

“Every day. Even more now that you’re back and we know Matilda is alive. Do you?” 

She smiles sadly at him. “All the time. I mean, I used to think about what being a mother would’ve been like. And when I saw a child, I’d picture ours in my head, doing the sorts of things babies and children do…” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “One of the therapists I saw told me it wasn’t healthy, but I didn’t care. It comforted me.” 

“You were in therapy?” She had always talked about seeing a therapist, even before the Alice fiasco, but it’s not something she thought he remembered. “I’m really proud of you.”

He leans in and runs another antiseptic wipe across her cheek. He tosses it in the trash and leans forward, blowing lightly to dry the wetness left behind by the towelette. Her eyes flutter closed and she revels in the warmth of his breath. It has been years since he’s been this close and she wonders what it would feel like to have his lips on hers again. Would it be just as magical as it was when they were sixteen? 

She can feel herself leaning forward before she gets her wits about her, clears her throat, and pulls back. Her entire body seems to awaken, electricity courses through her as she stares at him. She isn’t crazy. He really was about to kiss her. The way he’s looking at her, blue eyes as entranced as hers must be, is the only confirmation she needs. He was really about to kiss her. And she thinks she wanted him to.

Before she can recall how good kissing him used to feel, she reminds herself of the collision course they’re on, of the way their relationship used to be and how horribly it had ended. That ending is now a new beginning. Matilda is the new beginning and until they find her, the last thing she needs is complications and distractions. Kissing him would be a gigantic complication. Something on her face must change, because Jughead leans back and drops his hands to his thighs. 

“Uh, sorry. I--”

“Don’t worry,” she replies, cutting him off. The tension between them grows palpable as he continues taking care of the cuts and bruises on her face. 

“I’m going to help you into bed,” he says once he’s done. She nods and he gently hooks one arm beneath her knees and places the other between her shoulders, lifting her into his arms bridal style. The few steps to the bedroom are a struggle for her as she tries not to wince or think too much about his arms holding her. 

He sets her down on the bed and places pillows behind her to prop her up. 

“Thank you,” she says, and he nods before disappearing from the room, heading back toward the kitchen. He returns a moment later with two painkillers in his palm and a glass of water in the other hand. 

“Here.” He offers them to her, and . while she isn’t a fan of pills, she takes them, knowing they will provide her a painless night of rest. 

“Thank you,” she says again, automatically.

“You don’t need to thank me, Betty.” 

She does, but arguing with him about it would be pointless, so she doesn’t. After grabbing the blankets from the closet, he speaks again. 

“Uh, I was thinking of crashing on the couch, if you don’t mind. Whenever Penny appears, the Ghoulies aren’t far behind. I’d prefer it if you weren’t alone here. Just in case.” 

“It’s your place, Jughead. Of course you can stay. You don’t have to stay on the couch, though.” She knows the old couch is not comfortable, especially not for him, considering his tall frame. “This bed is big enough for the both of us.” 

“That really isn’t necessary. The couch will be fine,” he insists. 

She wants to argue with him. She can see the exhaustion on his face, and she isn’t sure if he’s been like this since she left or since she’s come back. She tries to convince herself that maybe it has nothing to do with her at all, but she can’t quite get herself to believe it.

“Jug, it’s fine. It’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before.”

“Get some sleep,” he says before walking away and settling himself on the couch. She huffs in defeat, settles back, succumbing to sleep quickly.

\--

Jughead is laying on the couch, eyes wide and ears open. He’s on high alert, just as he told his troops to be. The Ghoulies haven’t appeared in a few years, but he always knew they weren’t far. They’d made a deal soon after his beat down that they’d leave the Southside alone as long as the Serpents stayed away from their drug trade. And they had.

_What was she thinking and where did she go that she essentially got kidnapped?_ He laughs to himself. _She’s always been curious. She never left a stone unturned. I guess that’s still true,_ he muses. He can’t lay there anymore; he’s getting restless and every creek or thud made him jump. He starts to pace the floor slowly and quietly. He doesn’t want to wake her up — she needs the rest more than he does. He knows his limitations, he can handle the sleep deprivation. 

He drums his fingers against his thighs and looks out the window for any sign of trouble. There are still a few cars in the parking lot, likely late-night regulars at the bar, and he’s thankful that he soundproofed the apartment years ago. He reaches into his pocket and finds his pack of cigarettes, pats his pockets to ensure he has a lighter, and checks the kitchen drawer to see if there’s still an ashtray hiding there.

He grabs the black plastic tray and carries it with him to the fire escape. He opens the window quietly and sneaks out, leaving it open so he can hear Betty if she calls for him. He can hear her moving in bed and when he peeks through the window he sees the grimace on her face. He wishes he could do something to take the pain away, but he lost that right around the time he started to cause it. 

He pops the filter in his mouth, sparks his lighter and inhales deeply. He holds the smoke in his lungs briefly before exhaling, sighing at the buzz the nicotine provides. He turns again to the parking lot to make sure all is well and thinks back to earlier that evening.

He’d almost kissed her. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was thinking it would solve, but he was so overcome with the urge to kiss her like he did when they were young and in love. _Well, we’re still young,_ he posits. And he knows without a doubt he’ll always be in love with her.

But he needs to focus — _they_ need to focus — if they’re going to find their daughter. He’d been an idiot to give into his baser instincts, and he’s partially grateful for her stopping him. 

He hears the bed creak and figures she’s trying to find a more comfortable position to sleep in. He lights another cigarette after just having snuffed out his last. 

He’s on his fourth when he hears a voice behind him that scares the everloving shit out of him.

“Hey.”

He jumps so violently he nearly falls off the fire escape. Before he can catch his breath, she’s scrutinizing the cigarette dangling from his lips.

“You know smoking will kill you, right?” Her voice is sleep-ridden and pained and it makes him realize how much he missed her morning voice. He stands and turns slowly, blowing the smoke away from her and stamping out the rest of the butt.

“We all have to die of something.” He shrugs and can see that she’s trying to hide an amused smile. For a moment, it feels like it used to and he has to stop himself from pulling her out of the window and laying his head on her shoulder.

There used to be so many nights she’d get out of bed looking for him when he couldn’t sleep, the weight of the entire gang on his shoulders. She would come outside and wrap herself around him, kiss the back of his neck, comfort him in anyway she could. That was until he started wandering off in the middle of the night so she couldn’t do it anymore. It was all downhill from there.

“That’s a terrible excuse, Jug. Come back inside and get some sleep.”

“I’m fine,” he says, although he knows that he isn’t. And he knows that she knows it, too.

She looks at him pointedly and sighs. He watches her bend herself in half — wincing in pain — to join him fully outside on the fire escape. He jolts forward to steady her and she straightens. He gives her a warning glance.

“You need to be careful,” he says, letting go of her waist before more intimate ideas can flood his thoughts. 

“I’ll be okay. The painkillers helped. Thank you.”

“You were never the biggest fan of them. I was nearly certain you were going to fight me on it.”

“It was easier not to, honestly. And they helped, so I guess I can’t be too upset about it.” She shrugs and he wants to laugh at how nonchalant she’s being. He’s been in her exact position before, roughed up and terrified, and he’s sure she can’t be that collected on the inside. He never was.

They stay in the cool night air for a while, sitting in relative silence until he hears her shudder from the breeze.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” he says softly, going through the window and offering his hand to help her back inside. She takes it and only struggles slightly when climbing back through. 

“Will you come to bed, too?” she asks him, stopping him in his tracks as he makes his way back to the couch. “I know that you’re not going to get any sleep on that couch. I remember how uncomfortable it is.”

“I’ll be okay, Betts,” he says, the nickname slipping off his tongue before he can catch it. He thinks she notices because her eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything. He thinks that’s a good sign. If she hated him, she would have told him not to call her that or stormed off, but she doesn’t.

“I think we both know that isn’t true. You always said you slept better…” She cuts herself off, but he knows what sentiment finishes that sentence. _Next to me._ He feels like he hasn’t slept well since the day she left, and maybe he hasn’t, but everything is still so terribly unclear between them that he isn’t sure it’s the best idea.

“Betty,” he breathes, but he can hear the desperation in his own voice and if he can, she definitely can. All of the emotions he tried to hide for the last five years are flooding back in full force and he isn’t sure he can handle it.

“I’m not going back to bed unless you’re coming with me,” she says in defiance, crossing her arms over her chest. He can see the pain on her face, so he gives in quicker than he is ready to.

“Fine. But only because you need to sleep if we’re going to meet with the next lead tomorrow.”

“Toni’s friend agreed to meet with you?” The excitement in her voice warms his heart.

“She agreed to meet with _us_. Tomorrow, just after ten in the morning at Thistlehouse.”

Betty nods, walks back toward the bed, and sits down, getting herself comfortable before laying down on the propped pillows. He feels her eyes on him as he climbs in beside her, making sure to keep space between them.

Her sigh in relief is audible in the peaceful silence.

“Good night, Betty.”

“Good night, Juggie,” she says through a yawn, and now his mind is reeling for another reason. It hits him quickly, but he’s more tired than he originally thought. He isn’t sure if it’s five years of restless sleep catching up with him or just the last few days, but he’s out before he can think too hard about it.

When he wakes up the next morning, his arm is draped over her torso and she’s nuzzled into his neck.

\--

Betty wakes up with Jughead’s hand on her shoulder. When the light streaming in from the window warms her face she goes to stretch her arms on instinct, but the pain pounding her body comes back full force as soon as she does. _Okay. Stretching was a bad idea_.

“You okay?” he asks, the concern in his voice lingering from last night. 

She nods. “Nothing another painkiller won't help with.” 

As he offers her a glass of water, she notices he's fully dressed in different pair of jeans and t-shirt, and his hair is still a bit wet on its ends. 

“Toni brought me a change of clothes this morning,” he explains. “She's downstairs waiting for us.” Betty looks at the clock on the bedside table. 8:45. “I figured you'd want to take a shower and eat breakfast.” Jughead says. 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

“You think you'll need help showering? I can ask Toni to come up and give you a hand.” 

Betty hopes her face doesn’t show the wave of discomfort that hits her at the mention of Toni Topaz. With a smile, she shakes her head.

“I think I’ll be fine, but thanks for asking.” Her mother didn’t raise her to be anything other than polite. “Veronica left already?”

“Uh, actually, she left a little after we came up. Something with her mother. She said she would come back later today so you two can finally catch up.”

She smiles again, the thought of seeing her old friend excites her, despite the circumstances. 

“So, I, uh, I’ll let you get ready.” 

She watches as he walks out, and a petty voice in her head wonders if he’s in such a hurry because of the pink-haired Serpent waiting downstairs. _None of my business,_ she reminds herself as she slowly gets up from the bed and heads to the bathroom. 

\--

“Betty Cooper,” a sultry voice greets as soon as she sets foot in the bar. 

Betty smiles politely. “Hi, Toni.” 

Jughead and Toni are sitting side by side on a table, Pop's bags and cups between them. 

“How’re you feeling?” Genuine concern appears on her face.

“Sore, but it'll get better.” Betty shrugs, not really caring to elaborate. Yes, she's sore, but she's also worried and afraid and there are a million things on her mind right now; saying she's sore simplifies the whole conversation.

“That's the spirit. I brought breakfast. We still have some time, so enjoy before Jughead eats everything.” Toni laughs at her own joke and at Jughead's unamused face. 

“You're ridiculous, Topaz,” he groans, shaking his head, but Betty can tell he’s trying not to laugh. 

“You know you love me,” Toni sings, getting up and heading to the back of the bar. 

Betty sits on another chair, taking one of the donuts from the box and a cup of coffee from the tray. Moments later, Jughead mumbles something about Sweet Pea and gets up too, disappearing behind the same door Toni did. 

It's clear they're a thing. Or at least something. And she isn't sure why that realization seems to bother her. It's not like she expected him to never move on after their relationship ended. She had moved on too, in a way. There was nothing else between them. There wasn't even a _them,_ just a he and a she. 

Betty sits there with her thoughts until they come back and announce it’s time to go. Outside, she’s greeted by the sight of an old Chevy truck she doesn’t recognize. 

“Fangs lent us his truck,” Jughead explains. “You’re in no condition to ride with me on the bike and your car is gone, too.” _Damn it._ Her car. She’d totally forgotten about it. Most likely it’s still parked where she’d left it the other night, but no way in hell she would be going back into Penny’s backyard for the old wagon from her childhood. 

Jughead helps her into the passenger seat, next to Toni who already has the engine running, before climbing in himself.

They park the car inside the gates of Thistlehouse, a mansion she knows belongs to the richest family in Riverdale — the Blossoms. 

“Who are we meeting?” Betty asks as they make their way to the large, ornate door.

“Cheryl Blossom,” Toni answers, reaching for the doorbell. 

“Cheryl Blossom, as in one half of the Blossom twins?” Before anyone can reply, the door opens and a new voice beats them to it. 

“The one and only,” a strong, melodic, feminine voice says. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Betty Cooper. It’s nice to meet you.” She offers her hand. 

Cheryl ignores the gesture. “The pleasure is all mine. Please, do come in.” 

They follow Cheryl through the door and out of the entryway, into a cozy parlor where she gestures for them to take a seat on a dark red, velvet couch. 

“So, how can I help you? Toni was rather secretive about all of this.” Cheryl shoots Toni a strange glance, piquing Betty’s curiosity, but as Jughead speaks, she focuses her attention on the task in front of them instead of her wandering thoughts. 

“I’ve heard you might be able to help us out,” Jughead says. “We want to know about your time at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy.”

Cheryl bristles but she composes herself quickly. Betty isn’t sure why Jughead didn’t give her more information about Cheryl prior to their meeting, but it’s clear to her now why they’re here. She watches as Cheryl eyes Toni, taking a deep breath.

“As I’m sure you know, I was there for a while as a teenager. Mother Blossom was ashamed of me, but that is neither here nor there. When I escaped, I had a hand in shutting that house of horrors down.”

“Cheryl, I’m going to need more than that. It’s _really_ important,” Jughead urges.

“Listen,” Betty sighs. She somehow knows that Cheryl isn’t going to be forthcoming with her information if she doesn’t get any in return. “We’re looking for my daughter and you’re the only one we know that has been inside that hellhole and knows how it works. We’re not interested in making you relive whatever you’ve been through. We just want to find-” It pains her to talk about Matilda out loud, since her mind tends to jump to the darkest outcomes possible. She feels Jughead’s hand on her knee, pressing gently for support. Toni throws them a questioning look, like she wants approval to speak, and Betty nods her consent.

“Betty’s mother gave their daughter up for adoption without Betty’s knowledge. She and Jughead thought the baby died and just found out about the adoption, but that’s all they know. They’re trying to track her down, babe..” Something changes on Cheryl’s face when Toni tells the story. 

“I don’t know much about what those witches did with kids, but I do know they were involved in illegal adoptions. Mother was pretty much sold to the Blossoms when she was a child,” Cheryl says. Betty feels a chill run up and down her spine and she shakes at the mere thought of something like that happening to her daughter. Cheryl continued. “Most of the records were destroyed or rendered useless once the Sisters learned the police were onto them, so you won’t find anything there. Unless…”

“Unless what?” Jughead demands rudely. Betty can feel anxiety radiating off him in waves. 

“Unless you talk to one of the nuns.” 

He shakes his head. “I heard they all vanished into thin air just before the cops came.” 

“Yes, Jones, but here’s the thing — the best place to hide is in plain sight.” 

Betty takes a deep breath, unable to deal with cryptic messages. “What exactly are you saying, Cheryl?” 

The redhead turns to her. “I heard that one of them lives in Seaside. The only reason why the police never found them is because they didn’t bother to really look. I can get the address for you.” 

Betty feels something like relief well up inside of her. They have a new lead. They’re one step closer to finding Mattie. 

“Cheryl, I have no words to thank you for this.” 

Cheryl gives Betty a genuine smile in return. “No need to thank me, Betty Cooper. I did this as a favor for my TT.” She turns to Toni and her face shines with what can only be described as love and admiration. 

Beside her, Jughead snorts. “Time to get going, Betty,” he says, as he laughs and shakes his head at the two women. He leans in close and whispers, “If we don’t leave now, they’re gonna start going at it, and I’ve seen enough of that for a lifetime.” He laughs again, takes Betty’s hand and calls over his shoulder. “Thank you, Cheryl. Really.” 

“I do hope you find your daughter. Should you need anything, you know where to find me, Jones.” 

She wants to laugh at herself for being jealous of Toni Topaz. Now that she’s seen her with Cheryl, she knows she has nothing to worry about. But did she _want_ to not have anything to worry about? She thought she’d gotten over any lingering feelings for Jughead long ago, but it seems that they were just buried.

\--

Back at Jughead’s apartment, Betty rummages through her things looking for a notebook. She needs to write down what Cheryl said, as well as any other things they find out along the way, so she won’t forget any of it. She knows she has one lying around the apartment somewhere — she always carries a notebook with her — so she checks all of the drawers in the kitchen and every possible surface in the living room, hoping to find it stashed somewhere. Instead, she comes up short.

Betty watches as Jughead disappears to the bathroom, then resumes her search. She checks the desk next, opening drawers that are mostly empty, until she checks the last one. In it, she finds a leatherbound notebook, one she’s never seen before, held closed by a raw piece of matching leather. Curious, she untangles the leather, expecting it to be empty, but what she sees is familiar handwriting scrawled across every page.

Each line is filled with bold black ink, with words of misery and adoration. Her eyes can’t seem to focus on any particular passage, but she knows Jughead wrote them. She wonders how recently, what they mean, if they’re still true. 

She is thumbing through again when she hears footsteps coming from the bathroom. She looks up to see Jughead, eyes wide and frozen. She hears a teardrop fall onto one of the pages and realizes then that she’s crying. Betty slams the book shut and holds it up for him to see.

“Jughead.” Her voice shakes as she says his name. “What is this?” 

.

.

.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah. What did we think, guys? What's gonna happen? We'd absolutely love to hear your theories!
> 
> Be sure to let us know in the comments and/or on tumblr (@shrugheadjonesthethird & @itsmarscosta). We really do love hearing from you all. Every piece of feedback has been tremendous and we cannot thank you enough.


	5. Past Meets Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. Apologies again for the postponed update. Life is crazy busy for us lately. We know we left you guys on _another_ cliffhanger, and I can't promise it won't happen again, but thanks for sticking it out and continuing this journey with us.
> 
> Shouts again, and as always to our amazing betas Alix (psychobetts) and Lyss (bettscoopr/breathewords) for making us better writers and better people for knowing them. We love you both, girls! <3
> 
> So are you guys ready to find out just what Betty found?

Jughead stands there frozen; he isn’t sure for how long. Those books were never supposed to see the light of day, never supposed to be anything but his weird form of therapy to cope with a lost child and a lost love. But now that lost love has returned and she’s gripping it in her hands while tears stream relentlessly down her face. 

“Betty, I can explain.” He realizes the way he says it sounds like he’s done something bad or unforgivable, but he hasn’t. At least he doesn’t think so. 

He’s finally able to move his feet toward a weeping Betty. He takes the notebook from her hands and leads them to the couch so he can explain himself. He tells himself she’ll understand. He knows she’s smart and will piece it together if she really sets her mind to it.

They settle on opposite ends of the couch and she pulls her knees to her chest. 

“When you left, I had a really hard time,” Jughead starts, “I didn’t know where you went. I got a phone call from your sister saying you skipped town and that Matilda… well, you know that part. I never thought I’d have to live in a world without Betty Cooper and then all of a sudden I was and I didn’t handle it well.”

She drops her forehead to her knees and he knows he has to get to the point.

“So, when I found…”

“Who is she?” She cuts him off. Her voice is small and he almost doesn’t recognize it.

“Who is who?” 

“The person… the girl in there.” She points to the notebook in his hands and that’s when he realizes she doesn’t know he was writing about  _ her _ . He can’t help but take the opportunity to string her along a little further, hoping maybe she’ll see herself through his eyes.

“I met this girl. She’s brilliant and strong and everything I ever needed. She is probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever met…”

She cuts him off again with a sharp inhale as a fresh set of tears roll down her cheeks.

“I get it Jug, she’s great. Why are you doing this? Why are you telling me about this girl?” 

He can hear in her voice that he went too far, that she’s not in the right state of mind to pick up on the fact that he’s talking about her, so he quickly abandons all efforts to get her to realize on her own.

“The girl is  _ you _ . The girl I write about will  _ always _ be you.” He’s watching her carefully and her head shoots up from her knees. Her eyes are wide. He can see the confusion written all over her face and he thinks it’s a little bizarre. “How could you ever think I’d love anyone other than you?”

“I just... I left and we moved on and…”

He played it over in his head.  _ We _ moved on. He wasn’t sure what  _ we _ she was talking about, but he certainly wasn’t part of it. He hadn’t moved on. Sure, he tried, but no one was ever going to be her. Even at eighteen he knew she was it for him, and if it was meant to happen, they’d find their way back together again. He believes that everyone, if they’re lucky, gets one  _ real _ love, and he found her so young. He wasn’t ready to give up on it, at least not in his head.

“Jug…  _ say _ something.”

“Yes, you left, but I didn’t move on. Not really. I couldn’t afford therapy, so I wrote everything down. I have dozens of notebooks just like this ranging every emotion you can think of. Five years of feelings I was trying to push away, but I knew I never could. But, by the sounds of it, you’ve moved on. I figured you would when I never heard from you.” There’s no bitterness in his voice. He made his peace with the idea that Betty probably didn’t feel as intensely about him as he did about her.

“I… That wasn’t why I never called. Because I hadn’t moved on. Calling would mean hearing your voice, and it would’ve been too much. I went away because getting out of here and away from you was a last-ditch effort to keep me sane. I nearly lost it, Jughead.” 

He can hear in her voice that she’s going to burst into tears again at any second. He wants to reach out and pull her close, but he isn’t sure that’s something he should do given the circumstances. He’d wanted her to call. He’d wanted to know she was okay. He’d wanted all of that, but he thinks he understands now why she didn’t. It was the same reason he stopped trying.

“What do you mean, nearly lost it?” 

She takes a few deep breaths before speaking. 

“It was really bad when I got back home from the Sisters. I… I was a mess. I wouldn’t eat, sleep or do anything other than cry all day and night. My mother even called Doctor Patel a few times because she was afraid that I would do something  _ drastic _ . That’s the word she used. Almost two weeks later she came in my room with luggage and told me we were going on vacation. She packed all of my things, and I was so out of it that the next thing I knew we were on a plane to LA.” 

“But, if you didn’t want to go… why did you? You could have… you could have called me.” He hears the sadness in his own voice when he says it, but he knows she couldn’t have, not after what she’d just said.

“That’s just it. I couldn’t call you. My mother told me she had already gotten in touch with you when I went into labor and you said you were busy. Too busy to be present for your own child's delivery. I know now that was another one of her lies, but I didn’t question it at first. I couldn’t even think about it for long enough to consider it wasn’t the truth. And I was so angry at you. I thought that if you had been there, something could have been different. I don’t know. I think a part of me blamed you in some way… for what happened, for not being there, for being so deep in the Serpents, for not caring… I guess that’s why I never called, not even after I left.”

“You thought I didn’t care?” He feels the tears building behind his eyes, and he doesn’t want to cry, but hearing the love of his life say he doesn’t care about her or their child rips at his heart.

“I’m sorry, Jughead. I wasn’t myself, and it was… easier to just forget everything that made the hurt worse. Especially you.” 

The confirmation hits him like a ton of bricks. She  _ wanted _ to forget him. She wants nothing to do with him, and he thinks that’s worse than anything his mind could ever come up with. So, why was she here? Why was she in tears on his couch? Why were they working together to find their daughter if she wants nothing to do with him? He gets up off the couch and runs his fingers through his hair.

“So, is all of this to say that you moved on to bigger and better things? To a better life away from here? Away from me? And if it is, why bother staying? Why even involve me at all?” His voice gains volume and he pushes away the sadness in favor of anger. At least that way she won’t see him cry.

“What? No! I mean, not anymore. Even if we both moved on, even if we have different lives, now we have Matilda. She’s why I’m here. She changes everything. She’s the only thing that matters, Jughead. The rest is just… history.” 

“So when we find her you’re… what? Just going to leave again? Go back to your perfect California life and your fancy, better-for-you boyfriend? Is  _ that  _ what you’re playing at?” He has no idea if she’s actually dating anybody. He doesn’t know anything about her life out in California. But he’s hurting and lashing out, and he can’t stop even if he tried to.

“I’m not playing at anything, Jughead! Why would you say that?”

“Because I have loved you since we were fifteen years old and to hear that you just wanted to leave and forget  _ everything _ rips my heart out. Is that what you want to hear?” He’s pacing around the kitchen now, losing the fight with his tears as they spill down his cheeks. “I know I fucked up, Betty. I know I did, but I never wanted to forget you. I  _ can’t _ and I won’t.” 

He stands with his palms flat against the countertop and he reaches for a cigarette after a few deep breaths. He needs to calm down and he needs to not go downstairs for a drink. He opens the window to the fire escape but doesn’t walk out, just leans out the window and inhales as he lights up. A moment passes before he hears her behind him. 

“I don’t know what I want to hear,” she begins in a small, soft voice. “I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear all of this. I… don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what you want me to say after all this. Hell, I wasn’t even expecting this conversation.” She pauses, sighing. “Look, all I know is, there’s too much happening right now, and I just… can’t. I can’t allow myself to think about anything other than finding my daughter. Please don’t hate me for that.” 

He blows a steady stream of smoke from his lips and peeks over his shoulder to see her standing there, arms crossed and very upset. He drops his head down and finishes his cigarette, snuffing it out and turning around to face her again.

“I have never hated you. Trust me, I  _ wanted _ to, but you’re Betty, and I can’t. But you keep saying  _ my  _ daughter. She is  _ our _ daughter. That’s what makes me think you’re going to take her and run. Because she’s yours, not mine.” He jabs a finger at her.

“I don’t mean it like that. When I say it… you need to understand that when I lost her, I lost a part of myself. I say  _ my  _ daughter because I feel the need to repeat to myself that she’s mine, no matter what. Even if she has another family, even if she doesn’t know me, she’s mine, and I’m hers. Can you understand that? I don’t mean to exclude you. I could never. She’s yours just as much as she’s mine.”

“But you see where I’m coming from, don’t you? I understand that I didn’t carry her for nine months just to have her ripped away, but I had  _ both _ of you ripped from my life without so much as a goodbye.” 

Something changes in her expression with his words.

“I can’t imagine what that was like for you to go through all of that alone, but I am sorry for the part I played in it.” 

He wants to believe her, really he does. But if she is sorry, if she felt like she owed him an apology at any point, maybe they would have reached something like reconciliation sooner. Instead, all they have is years of silence between them.

“I had to hear it from your sister. I know you said your mom told you she called me, but wouldn’t you want to tell me yourself? I can’t imagine how mad you would have been when you thought I didn’t want to be there for you, but you didn’t think that I deserved to hear any of it from you?”

“I told you, I was in a very dark place. It took months before I could even bring myself to speak about it, even after leaving Riverdale. It wasn’t you, it was me, and I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry, and I don’t know, I don’t have anything else to tell you other than I’m sorry!”

She’s nearly hysterical by the time she says she’s sorry for what feels like the millionth time. This time he gives in, wraps her in his arms and lets her cry into his shoulder, whispering his own apologies into the top of her head. He hates how happy having her there makes him feel. It’s been so long but he can feel her melting into him, just like she used to.

For the first time in over five years, Betty allows herself to revel in the comfort and peace she only ever found in his arms. Never did she imagine that finding that notebook would lead to this. His words revealed so much pain, so many feelings, and although she was overwhelmed, one thing was clear in her mind: she hates her mother for doing this to him, to her, to their innocent little girl. They were only kids. Kids filled with hopes and dreams, and Alice Cooper ripped it all away without reason other than her ridiculous sense of doing the right thing. Now, here they stand, together, broken and damaged beyond repair.

It had been difficult to tell him about those days after she’d lost Mattie. Outside of her family and Doctor Patel, no one knew how bad it had gotten. Even Veronica only had a vague idea. Over the course of those days, giving up, putting an end to everything had crossed her mind more than once. Leaving had been her saving grace, and she couldn’t regret the reason why she was still alive. But now all she can think about is how her own mother, seeing what she’d been going through, still kept up such a dreadful and vicious lie. 

She understands where Jughead is coming from. He lost Mattie, too. He lost her, and now his hope is tainted with the fear that she’ll just take their daughter and leave him. No matter what she thought of him all these years, all the pain and resentment the mere mention of his name brought on, Betty would never take their daughter from him. She doesn’t know what will happen, what they’ll do, but she would certainly never prevent him from having a relationship with his daughter. 

Above all, she can’t help but hope that he really can forgive her for the part she played in his hurt and misery. 

“I hope you know how sorry I am, Juggie.” The nickname escapes her lips in a soft whisper, and she feels his body tense up a little against hers. The tension is gone as fast as it came, and without taking his arms from around her, Jughead raises his head from the top of hers to look her in the eyes. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Betty. And… I’m sorry, too. For everything.” He pauses, and she can see that he wants to say something else. At least right now, she can read his face as well as she used to. She doesn’t take her eyes from him, waiting patiently for him to continue. “I was thinking that maybe, after we find Matilda, we could — ”

He doesn’t get to finish because he’s cut off by the sound of shattering glass. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, until Sweet Pea bursts into the apartment, an unreadable look on his face. 

“Boss, you need to come downstairs. Now.” 

Jughead looks at Betty and she nods, understanding he needs to go. He drops his arms from her and he follows Sweet Pea. Betty doesn’t think twice before trailing after them, wanting to know what had made the Serpent this agitated. 

The patrons downstairs seem equally frustrated, angered even, and the air is filled with a dangerous tension as they move through the crowd to go outside where more Serpents are gathered. In the parking lot, there are more gang members than Betty ever remembers seeing in one place. A sea of motorcycles and a few beat up pickup trucks line the lot, but one thing stands out to Betty, and it seems everyone else is looking at it, too.

The station wagon, the car she learned to drive in, the one that brought her home, sits front and center, completely wrecked. The windshield is shattered, there are dents on every surface and the bumper is half torn off. But the worst of it are the words painted across the wreckage:  _ Serpent Slut. _

She stands rooted to her spot, the air around her cold until she feels warm hands on her shoulders. She knows without looking that they’re Jughead’s. He tries to get her to look away, but she won’t. Her eyes are glued to the painted words. It’s sophomore year all over again, only this time her car is destroyed instead of her locker.

She can hear the chatter around her, can hear the clicking of knives unfolding and baseball bats slamming against the pavement. She thinks she hears a gun cock, but she tries to ignore it. As hard as Jughead is trying to get her to look away, she can’t seem to set her sights on anything else.  _ This is my fault _ . 

She hears Sweet Pea call to Jughead as he jogs over. He stops and she hears that he’s out of breath. When she tears her eyes away from the station wagon, she sees the worry on both Serpents faces and knows she’s wearing the same expression.

“Pea, what the fuck happened?” He’s rubbing his hands down her arms now, trying to keep her warm and close so she knows she’s safe.

“Me, Toni, Fangs and a few others were in the bar when we heard all these engines revving, so we ran out to see what was going on. Jinx almost grabbed one of them, but they sped off before we could stop them.”

Betty is zoning in and out, only catching snippets of the conversation when she hears Sweet Pea continue.

“This is a direct threat, Jug. We have to retaliate. We have a plan. I know it’ll work.”

“Hey, woah. No,” she hears Jughead protest. “I have no doubt this is Penny’s handiwork, but I don’t want an all-out gang war on my hands. You know we don’t do this shit anymore!”

“Jughead, we don’t have a choice!”

“We always have a choice.”

“Jug, this is my fault,” Betty interjects. “Let me fight my own battles.”

He turns her around and they’re finally face to face again. He lowers his voice to speak only to her. “We run the community center, and Toys for Tots. We don’t run drugs or guns anymore. We have tutors for the kids so they can go to college and do better things with their lives than we did. We’re a glorified motorcycle-gang-meets-Boys-and-Girls-Club but we still know how to fight. So, let us fight  _ with _ you.”

She hears him. But amidst the chaos, her mind can barely focus on his words. There is a strange but familiar voice in the back of her head calling for her, but she can’t place it amidst all the voices. It’s slowly getting louder and she blinks rapidly, hoping maybe that will help. 

“Liza!” she hears, and before she realizes what’s happening, Jughead pulls her back flat to his chest, holding tightly to her hips. “Liza, is that you?” 

Her eyes widen and she freezes again.  _ Andrew.  _ How the hell is he even here? Why? There are a thousand questions running through her mind, but she tries to focus on Jughead behind her, grounding her like he used to.

Andrew gets closer and just before he reaches them, Sweet Pea intervenes, stepping out in front of her and Jughead.

“Slow down there, prep school. Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck am I? Who the fuck are you?” Betty can’t see clearly around Sweet Pea’s shoulders, but she can tell that Andrew is trying to get past the six-foot-something Serpent. “Out of my way. Let me get to my girlfriend!”

She can feel Jughead’s grip tighten.  _ Fuck _ . This is exactly why he’s thinking she’ll bring Mattie back to California. Her perfect-on-the-outside boyfriend, showing up at the Whyte Wyrm in a polo shirt and pleated khakis. He’s the spitting image of Frat Boy Barbie.

“Yeah, I don’t think so, Kenny.” 

“My name is  _ Andrew _ and I’m telling you to let me through right now! Liza, will you tell this guy to get out of my way?”

“Unless you wanna lose a few teeth, I suggest you back up, pretty boy.” 

Jughead’s grip is nearly bruising, but she’s more preoccupied with the fact that Sweet Pea is defending her. She isn’t sure what he knows or why he knows it, but she’s thankful for him in that moment. 

“Do you know this guy, Princess?” Sweet Pea steps slightly to the side, revealing her ex-boyfriend.

She stares blankly at Andrew. He’s huffing and puffing and postulating wildly, trying to intimidate Sweet Pea, which on a normal day, she’d probably find hilarious. But right now, she’s about to lose her mind in all the chaos.

“Who the  _ fuck  _ are you and why are your hands on  _ my _ girlfriend?” Andrew asks, his gaze on Jughead’s hands still glued to Betty’s hips. 

Betty moves her hands to Jughead’s to keep them in place. She knows once he lets go, she’ll implode. She has dug her nails into the skin of his arms without realizing it and Jughead ducks his head so it’s close to her ear.

“You’re okay, Betts. Take a few deep breaths. I don’t know who this clown thinks he is, but I’ve got you. I promise.” She can feel her heartbeat returning to normal and her thoughts are only coming in pairs instead of by the dozen.

With one final deep breath she steps forward, Jughead’s grip on her lessening. She looks back at him and nods that she’s okay. She lunges forward and grabs Andrew by the arm, pulling him to the side not too far from Jughead and Sweet Pea. 

Betty feels the muscles in her neck tightening; there is a fluttering in her stomach that she knows isn’t the same as when she’d get them at sixteen. She stretches her neck to either side to try to relieve some tension, but it doesn’t seem to be working. 

She is overwhelmed to say the least. She is angry to be in this situation to begin with, frustrated with the lack of information leading them to Mattie. She has a new influx of emotions after the talk with Jughead she just had, her car is destroyed and to top it all off, her  _ ex- _ boyfriend shows up from across the world and is trying to lay claim to her in her hometown.  _ Oh _ . And her shrew of a mother is dying. 

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in Germany?” She’s trying to stay calm, but she’s losing that battle quickly.

“Well, when you call me upset and then break up with me for no reason, I figure that warrants a visit.”

“It doesn’t. I  _ broke up  _ with you,” she emphasizes. “How did you even know where I was?”

“I tracked your phone.” The way he says it — so nonchalantly — makes her blood boil. 

“ _ You what _ ?”

“Silly me, I thought you’d be in a hospital crying. But instead, imagine my surprise when I find you at a shithole bar in a shithole town surrounded by a bunch of degenerates. I don’t know what you’re doing, but you don’t belong in a place like this, Liza. You’re better than this.”

She laughs louder than she intends. It’s the first real laugh she’s had in days and it feels amazing. She feels a weight lift from her shoulders.

“What is so goddamn funny?”

“You think I don’t belong here? It’s funny how you can pass a judgement like that when I bet you can’t even tell me one thing about me. You don’t  _ know _ me. I never wanted you to. So, whatever you thought coming here was going to result in, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself.” She walks away, back toward Jughead and Sweet Pea.

She’s reaching her hand out for Jughead when she feels a tug at her other wrist, literally caught in between the two parts of her life she never thought would intersect.

“Hands off,  _ pal _ ,” Andrew says, tugging Betty closer to him. 

Betty watches Jughead’s face morph and she’s thankful she can still read him like a book. His nostrils flare and he runs his tongue across his teeth.

Betty ducks down and out of the way in time for Jughead to step forward and punch her former beau square in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. 

“The lady asked you to leave,” Jughead says as he picks Andrew up by the collar to deliver another punch to his cheek. 

She wants to let him do it, but she knows she shouldn’t. She steps forward and places her hand gently on Jughead’s shoulder. “Jug.”

He looks over at her, dropping Andrew to the pavement. Andrew scrambles up from the ground and throws his fist at Jughead, but Sweet Pea steps in and absorbs the blow in his palm. He chuckles, throwing a punch of his own, causing Andrew to stumble again. 

“Liza, what the hell is going on here?” Andrew manages to say through split and swollen lips. “What are you doing in a disgusting place like this with people so beneath you? Is your mother even sick, or did you just need to remind yourself that you’re so much better than whatever this is?” He gestures around them. 

“You need to leave,” she says in a low voice, ignoring his last words. “There’s nothing else between me and you. So leave and don’t come back. If you do, I won’t stop any of them from punching the hell out of you again.” 

Snorting, Andrew spits blood on the ground and wipes his mouth. “I should have known you were too good to be true. No woman is worth the wait. You’re just like the rest of them.” 

Jughead moves to hit him again but Betty puts a hand on his chest, stopping him. She turns again to Andrew. “Haven’t you had enough? Just leave already.” 

“Better listen to her, Kenny. Either you go, or I’ll make you,” Sweet Pea says, with a tone so normal it’s borderline scary. 

Finally, with one last look of disdain, Andrew walks away. 

\--

Jughead waits until the douchebag gets into his car and drives away. Once his tail lights are out of sight, he turns around and walks back into the bar, not waiting for his companions to join him. He goes straight to the men’s bathroom, leans over the sink and splashes water on his face. 

He never thought he’d have to come face to face with another man from Betty’s life.  _ Liza’s life _ . He stares at himself in the mirror. He’s pissed at himself for being jealous, but how can he not be? Just when he thinks that  _ maybe _ things might be looking up, Douchebro McGillicuddy strolls on up and tries to lay claim on the love of Jughead’s life. He didn’t mean to hit him.  _ Okay, he did. He really did _ . The guy deserved it, but Jughead was never one to get into fights, not unless it was absolutely necessary. But he’d learned from an early age he’d do just about anything for Betty, including fight for her.

He takes a few deep breaths and leaves the bathroom. Sweet Pea and Betty are waiting for him by the stairs to the apartment. Betty’s hands are shaking and Sweet Pea has an amused look on his face, but he says nothing as he reaches the stairs. He simply grabs Betty by the hand, leads her up the stairs and into the apartment, closing the door behind them.

He can tell she is uncomfortable as they stand in relative silence. 

“Jug, it isn’t—”

“That guy is a royal jackass,” he finally says.

“He is.”

“Then why did you date him?” He sounds calmer than he is. Inside his head is screaming, whirling with images of them together, their perfect life. He wonders if maybe once Andrew made her happy in a way that he couldn’t. He knows there were so many ways he didn’t make her happy.

“Does that matter?” Her tone is indignant. She doesn’t really want to answer the question. 

_ Stubborn as always _ , he thinks, and he would normally let it go but he wants to push her. He wants to know what this guy did to win her heart when it’s all he’s ever tried to do.

“It does.”

She plops herself onto the couch and curls into herself, wrapping her arms around her knees. He takes a seat at the opposite end despite how much he wants to bring her closer, back to how they’d been a couple of hours ago. 

“I… Okay. We were together for a few years, but it isn’t what you think.”

She looks at him pointedly and he wants to laugh, because she does know what he’s thinking. She was always able to read him well, even when he didn’t want her to. “And how do you know what I think?” 

“It was just nice to be with someone who didn’t know Elizabeth Cooper, childless mother, broken, damaged girl from the Northside of Riverdale. He only knew what I told him, which honestly wasn’t much. It was nice to pretend, but after a while it was daunting. I had to skate around things, hide parts of myself that I needed to work on. He didn’t know I was in therapy. It all got to be too much. I stayed with him because I thought it was better than being alone.”

He’s listening intently as she explains herself. He knows she doesn’t have to, and he thinks she knows too, but she does anyway. He’s grateful for it, even though it makes his heart wrench in his chest.

“I understand not wanting to be alone. It sucks, but sometimes it’s better than being with someone just for the sake of a warm embrace to fill the void,” he says knowingly. They sit in silence a little longer. He doesn’t know if she wants to continue — if there’s more to the story — but he doesn’t want to interrupt her if there is.

“I don’t love him, y’know. I could never love someone who doesn’t know  _ all _ of me. That includes the broken parts and the misfortune and the catastrophe that is my mother. The only person who has ever known everything… is you.”

He isn’t entirely sure what to make of that statement. He’s confused and distraught all over again, but he knows that if he gets another shot, he isn’t going to screw it up. He reaches out his hand to her and is surprised when she laces her fingers with his.

He’s overwhelmed with the urge to lean forward and kiss her. It’s just about all he can think about as her thumb grazes his. He swallows around the lump in his throat, trying to find any semblance of moisture to wet his palate. He’s leaning closer to her before he can stop himself, but he thinks she is, too. His heart is pounding in his chest, thumping against his ribcage, trying to reach out to the only girl he’s ever loved.

He can feel her breath on his face and his eyes flutter closed. He’s finally about to kiss her when his phone vibrates erratically on the table in front of them. He squeezes his eyes shut in frustration and tries to ignore it, but it keeps going.  _ Goddamnit. _

Cheryl Blossom. He knows if he ignores it, she’ll keep sending messages and trying to call, so he answers with a groan and puts her on speaker.

“Yes, almighty Blossom, how may I best serve you this evening?” he says in jest. Betty giggles from the other side of the couch.

“Spare the dramatics, Hobo King. I have that information you wanted. I could have emailed it, but this is less likely to get back to me. Plausible deniability and all that.”

“You have it already? I thought it would have taken longer than a few hours.”

“Ye of little faith. Grab some paper and a pen and start taking notes,” she says. 

Jughead springs up and grabs the notebook he has stashed in his messenger bag and rejoins Betty on the couch. He listens carefully, jotting notes as Cheryl spoke in detail about the Sisters. He looks down, but can barely read his own handwriting. Betty stifles a laugh and takes the pad and pen from him and takes far more detailed and far more legible notes: home and work addresses, phone numbers, even physical descriptions of the women, anything Cheryl could find, she hands over without too much of a fight.

By the time he hangs up the phone, Betty is almost in tears of joy. This is the most tangible proof they’ve had yet and they’re both overwhelmed by it. More than anything, he wants to bring their daughter home for Betty, though he knows finding her is only the first step in making that happen. She’s suffered enough, and if anyone deserves happiness it’s her.

“What do we do now?” Her voice is lighter and he smiles wider.

“I think it’s best we scope these places out first. I’ll ask one of the guys to take a trip to Seaside, just so we know what we’ll be dealing with.”

Betty furrows her eyebrows.“Why can’t we just go?”

“You’ve put yourself in enough danger since you’ve been back. I don’t think Cheryl would screw us over, but just in case it is a trap, I’d rather send someone else first.”

She sighs but agrees. He doesn’t think she has too much fight left in her for tonight. She’s run the gamut on emotions and if she’s anything like she was at sixteen, she’s exhausted. He knows the real reason he’s having someone else go before them, but it isn’t something he wants to worry her with. 

“In the meantime, why don’t you get some sleep? Maybe tomorrow you and Veronica can have that girls day that got so rudely interrupted.”

“That sounds like a good idea. But what if the Ghoulies come back?” 

He watches as she picks at her cuticles with shaking fingers. “Is that your way of asking me if I’ll stay the night again?”

She nods shyly and he can’t help butsmile. “Yeah, I’ll stay, but…”

“You’re not sleeping on the couch. You didn’t sleep until I forced you into the bed. So why are we going to fight about it again?”

She must have no idea of how he woke up that morning, with her face nuzzled deep into his neck. But who is he to turn down the ability to be so close to her? 

\--

Adult life has converted Betty into a light sleeper, so when Jughead first gets up, she’s up, too. Her broken cellphone, courtesy of Penny, reads 10:12, and she sighs contently at the good night of sleep she had and smiles. It’s not the only thing making her happy. She has no idea what sharing a bed with Jughead means for them, but she’s not going to complain. 

“Good morning,” he says as he comes out of the bathroom. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

He walks to the bed, and she can’t stop herself from ogling him as he pulls his shirt on. She heard him take it off last night just before they went to sleep, but it was pitch dark and she was tired enough to not have registered it in her mind. Now her mind is fresh and more awake than usual without coffee.

When she snaps her eyes up to his face, he’s also looking at her intensely. He moves slowly to the bed, purposefully not taking his eyes off of hers, and she thinks he’s about to try to kiss her again _.  _ Just then, her phone chimes on the bedside table.  _ Jesus Christ, not again.  _

Trance broken, Jughead steps back. She reaches for her phone and sees a message from Veronica. 

_ Get your ass down ASAP or I’ll finally follow the family business and commit a crime. Murder specifically, and the victim will be Sour Pea.  _

Betty smirks at her friend’s sense of humor. 

“Veronica is downstairs,” she tells Jughead, “and threatening to kill Sweet Pea.” 

He shakes his head and smiles back at her. “She’s been threatening him for years now.” 

Betty stares at him, his words dawning on her slowly. “Veronica and Sweet Pea? Are you kidding me?” 

Jughead laughs again. “I wish I was kidding. You better get ready. It’s better not to risk her finally making good on her threats, although at this point I think they’re worthless.” 

Fifteen minutes later, she's leaving the Wyrm with a grumpy Veronica. 

“B, you should totally move to the Pembrooke with me so I don't have to see his face every time I come around,” she says as they get in the car. “You could surely use somewhere more comfortable than that former storage floor turned into a studio apartment.”

Betty thinks for a moment before replying. “While I'd love to move in with you, for now it's better if I stay here, working with Jughead to find Mattie. And besides, I doubt he would let me move out, anyway. Not after what happened with Penny and the Ghoulies.” 

Veronica stares at her for a moment and she thinks of the fading bruises and healing cuts still on her face. 

“What’s up with you and Jughead, anyway? Sour Pea might have mentioned that he crashed upstairs the last couple of nights.” 

“I… I don’t know. Jughead's only trying to protect me, I guess.” 

“Okay…” Veronica trails off, having expected a more thorough reply from her friend. _. _

“That's all you have to say?” Betty asks.

Veronica looks away from the road for a second. “What? Am I supposed to say something else? Come on, B. Lighten up. It's girls day out. You deserve a break, even if just for a day.” 

Betty decides to take her word for it.

As usual, Veronica goes all out for their day together. When they get to the Pembrooke, Betty finds it staffed with professionals Veronica hired for manicures, pedicures and massages. 

“So, get talking,” Veronica says as they soak their feet. “It's been forever since we talked.” 

Betty sighs and tries to decide where she should begin. After she left Riverdale, when she had just started to get her life back together, she asked Veronica not to reach out for awhile. Cutting all ties made forgetting easier. 

“I never thanked you for giving me space all these years,” she finally says.

“B, you're my best friend. I'd do anything to help you. You don't have to thank me. Ever. Now spill. How was California?” 

“It took me a while to start enjoying it, but California turned out to be everything I ever wanted. I built a life there. My mother helped me buy this nice house by the beach, I got my degree, graduated top of my class and got a job at a newspaper like I always wanted. I had friends, a normal social life, and it wasn't bad at all.” Betty takes a sip of the mimosa a server hands to her. “What about you? How's life in Chicago?”

“As you can imagine, turning my back on the family business wasn't exactly easy. Neither was being alone in a whole new city, but after the first couple years I found my way. Wouldn't have done it if not for Archie, you know? He and the Andrews’ helped me in ways I'll never be able to repay.” Betty can't help but be surprised to hear that. She’s always known Archie and his family to be generous, but Veronica never seemed like the type who needed help of any kind.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was desperate and I knew he'd moved there for school, too. At first I only called for the company to have someone to talk to, but he invited me for dinner and his whole family just totally took me in. They treated me like I was family. Mary even got me my first internship at her firm.” 

“It still amazes me that you’re a lawyer. I always thought you'd be a designer or a business woman, you know? Not that you wouldn’t still be good at that stuff.” 

Veronica laughs. “To be honest, I never imagined it either. But now? JIt's like I found my calling. Nothing makes me happier than winning a case and seeing a criminal get what he deserves. It's like one of my colleagues joked the other day. We're saving the day one criminal at the time.” She laughs but there's something else on her face. 

“V?” Her friend stops laughing, shrugging. 

Veronica shrugs. “I guess it's my way of making up for never having the courage to turn my father in. Maybe the universe will see it as a good deed or whatever.” 

Betty reaches out, taking her hand.“V, you're not your Dad. The things he did were not, in any way, your fault. Okay? You're different. You're better than him. And the work you're doing is incredible.”

“Thank you, B.” 

“So, you and Archie have never…? You know.” 

Veronica laughs at the question, shaking her head. “No, that ship sailed sophomore year. Archie and I are just good friends. I can’t believe I didn’t mention this sooner, but he's married now! He met his wife in college and popped the question right after they graduated. I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you. Anyway, if you think about it, we all turned out okay. Archie as music professor, you in California, me as a lawyer and Jughead… well, doing whatever it is that he does. We're not the Core Four anymore, but life isn’t all that bad. We all found our ways.” 

“I certainly hope I can find mine,” Betty says. Veronica seems to immediately know what she means. 

“You'll find her, Betty. And when you do, you better be ready. What's the first thing you'll do when you meet her? When you show her Riverdale?” 

Betty lets the words hang between them for over a minute. She has, of course, thought about it before, but she’s never voiced those thoughts.

“I'm so going to spoil her,” Veronica continues, not minding Betty’s silence. “I'll be her favorite auntie.” 

Betty smiles belatedly, still lost in thought. “There's so much I want to do. I have no idea if it’s even possible for her to come home with us, even just for a little while, but I guess I’d like to take her to Pop’s. It’s a place that always meant a lot to me. My best memories are there and I’d love to be able to share it with her.” She looks at Veronica to find her eyes shining. “V?”

“I'm sorry. It's just… you talking about Pop's and the past just hits a nerve. We used to be so happy and innocent, but we lost it.” 

Yes, they’d all lost a lot, but the thought of Mattie being alive brings hope back to Betty's heart. “Maybe we can find it again. The happiness, you know? I like to believe it's not too late for either of us.” 

Veronica smiles, nodding. “You were always a believer, Betty Cooper.” She pauses to wipe a tear away. “Okay, this got too sad and too introspective way too fast. We need fun. And more alcohol. Come on, time to drink.” 

They're both way too drunk by the time they go to sleep, and when Betty wakes up the next morning it’s past noon and she’s definitely hungover. Veronica's chef prepares an amazing lunch, and after they have another massage. It feels better than she could’ve ever imagined to take a day off like this, and after years of constant work the break is more than welcome. 

She goes back to the Southside after dinner and only because Hermione comes to see Veronica, to talk about something concerning Hiram and family issues. Betty would rather not interfere. 

Back at the apartment she takes a shower and gets ready for bed, still feeling as relaxed as she was at the Pembroke. She sits down with a book and about four chapters later it's already after midnight and there’s still no sign of Jughead. She tries calling him but it goes straight to voicemail.

She waits a while longer before going down to the bar. The Wyrm is not as full as she expected and Sweet Pea is the only one behind the counter, so Betty takes a deep breath and walks up to him, hoping he’s in a good mood. 

“Anything I can help you with, Princess?” he asks, not looking up from the glasses he's washing. 

“Do you know where Jughead is? I figured he would be here tonight.”

“Jughead only works here on the busier days,” he replies, evading her question. 

“So do you know where he is?” 

“No clue. Have you tried calling him?” 

“I did, but it goes straight to voicemail.” 

“Well, Jones always sucked at keeping track of his phone. He’s probably busy brooding somewhere. He'll be back soon.” 

Resigned, she thanks him and goes back upstairs. It's not until she's making herself some tea that she notices the folded piece of paper on the countertop. When she opens it she immediately recognizes Jughead's handwriting.

_ Betty,  _

_ I'm sorry, something came up. I'll be back tomorrow night. If you need anything, call Sweet Pea.  _

_ Be safe, _

_ Jug. _

She reads it again, an unsettling feeling taking root in her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I couldn't promise there wouldn't be another cliffhanger? Yeah. Sorry, not sorry. So what do we think happened, friends? Let us know in the comments/on tumblr! Come find us and chat, we love to hear from you guys. @itsmarscosta & @shrugheadjonesthethird


	6. The Long Road Ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Welcome to Chapter 6. We know we've been kinda shitty at updating, and we're very sorry for that. Unfortunately real life gets in the way of being able to write as often as we'd like. If you're reading this: thank you for sticking around and bearing with us while we navigate time zones and busy schedules to keep creating this story. We appreciate every comment, kudo and message we've received. You guys have been absolute rockstar readers and we love you for it!
> 
> Shoutouts to Alix and Lyss for being the best betas we could ever ask for. Love you guys! <3
> 
> Now, do you wanna find out where Jughead went? Read on, beautiful humans!

He hates that he has to do this once a month. But this is the price he pays for keeping people safe, and he knows he’ll continue to do it until the threat is gone. Usually, Sweet Pea or Toni would come with him, but this time there had been a change of plans.

Toni was staying behind to spend time with Cheryl — a sort of payment for setting up the meeting — and Sweet Pea was doing something Jughead deemed more important than running a crate or two of drugs across state lines. He’s back at the Wyrm with Weasel, a younger Serpent slowly climbing the ranks and proving himself to be an asset to the team, making sure Betty stays out of harm’s way.

Jughead knows Betty will be confused when she wakes up and realizes he’s gone, but at least he left a note. He hopes that will ease her mind. He’s hyper focused on the road as he and Fangs ride toward New Jersey, more so than he’s ever been. His hands are wrapped around the steering wheel firmly and no music blares from the speakers. 

“Boss, you okay? Something seems off with you tonight.”

“Huh, what? No. I’m fine. I just wanna do this and be done with it.” He clicks the radio on and something soft and melodic plays. He doesn’t know the song, but he doesn’t entirely hate it. It’s warm and happy and makes him think of Betty. 

A few hours later, they pull up to the seemingly abandoned warehouse. Now they wait. They sit in relative darkness except for a broken street light at the end of the road. Jughead turns the music down low, knowing they’ll be waiting for a few hours.

Fangs, getting antsy next to him, breaks the silence. “Why didn’t you bring Sweets like you usually do?”

“He’s on another job tonight.” Jughead knows his response is short and vague, but it’s the only one he is willing to give at the moment.

“I thought we weren’t doing more jobs. Apart from these because of whatever bullshit she has on you,” Fangs says.

Jughead takes a deep breath. “Trust me, it isn’t my choice to do these runs. You think I want to spend hours sitting in this truck waiting when I could be doing something else? It’s the only way to keep Penny away from the Southside.”

“I know, Jug. I’m sorry, I’m just tired. Kevin is mad at me for bailing on our plans.”

“I’m sorry about that. When we get back you can have the next few days off, but for now, I need your head in the game,” he explains while his head is so far from the game its not even in the same arena. He keeps thinking of wisps of blonde hair splayed across his pillow from the night before. 

He had been careful to avoid physical contact with Betty, but he couldn’t help himself when he saw her hurting. He’s had a visceral need to protect her since they were kids, even though he always knew she could look after herself. It increased ten-fold when they started dating, and even though they’d been apart for five years, that instinct never went away. The moment he touched her he opened Pandora’s box, letting the old flame reignite.

He stokes those flames the longer he thinks about her. He wants to get home to her as quickly as he can, but he has a feeling that the night will take far longer than usual because of the Jones family misfortune.

His eyes grow heavy as they reach the four hour mark. He can hear Fangs snoring quietly next to him. Jughead’s eyes are nearly shut when he sees a sliver of light through a crack in a newly opened door. That’s their cue to move. 

He slaps Fangs awake with the back of his hand against his chest. “Let’s move.”

They clamber out of the truck and open the bed, pulling the crates forward. They each take two and make their way toward the light.

Someone swings the door open for them and Jughead and Fangs place the crates down on either side of the door. As they turn to leave, a hand on Jughead’s shoulder stops them.

“Always so quick to get out of here, kid.” There’s a smile in Penny’s voice. She isn’t usually around for their dropoffs, but he’s learned never to be surprised by her.

“Call me crazy for not wanting to stick around the likes of you,” he nearly spits as he motions Fangs toward truck.

“Gotta get back to that Ponytail you’ve got waiting for you?”

“What is your obsession with my ex-girlfriend?” The word feels weird on his tongue. In five years, he’s never referred to Betty as that.

Her laugh pierces his ears and makes him want to throw up. Her hand lifts from his shoulder. “You might want to get some coffee to keep you awake, it’s a long drive home.”

He rushes out the door to the truck where Fangs is waiting for him.

“What was that about?” Fangs asks.

“Just Penny being Penny,” he insists, but he knows that’s not the whole truth. He isn’t sure why Penny is so fascinated by Betty, but it probably isn’t a good reason.

Before he can start the truck and peel away, the door slams open and one of Penny’s associates approaches. He points to the window to have Jughead roll it down and he does, carefully. The associate slips a sheet of paper through the crack and walks away.

_ Six crates. 10 days. Same time. _

Jughead pounds his fist on the steering wheel. It’s the usual note explaining how much of what to bring when, except this time, instead of it indicating the next run would be in four weeks, it was in ten days.

He jumps out of the car and storms back into the building where he’d just left Penny and her goons.

“Another one in ten days? The arrangement was once a month!” Jughead screams, closing the distance between himself and Penny.

“I don’t give a shit, kid. You’ll do as instructed or Ponytail will get herself another beating. Is that clear?”

“She doesn’t have anything to do with this,” he seethes, but he knows he’s going to do what Penny says as long as it keeps Betty out of harm’s way.

“That’s where you’re wrong. But by all means, don’t do the delivery. See what happens.” She’s toying with him now and it only makes him angrier. Whatever trace of exhaustion he had is replaced with anger and he storms back to the truck.

He gets back in and slams the door, still seething. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths before looking over at Fangs, whose expression is one of almost pure terror.

“What the fuck!” Jughead throws the truck in reverse and drives away, leaving a cloud of dust and rocks behind them. 

A little ways down the road, after taking some turns too sharply, he pulls over at a well lit gas station. He tells Fangs to top off the gas tank and goes inside for some much needed coffee, a snack and a fresh pack of cigarettes. 

\---

Betty can't sleep. It's not for lack of trying — she's been tossing and turning for almost two hours to no avail. Her body feels restless and her mind is distracted with thoughts of Jughead. After another hour of debating and tossing, she gives up, pulls on some jeans with her pajama shirt and heads down to the bar. As she takes a seat on a barstool, she notices the same people are still there, for the most part in the same places. When Sweet Pea appears from the kitchen, he seems genuinely surprised to see her. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks, raising a brow. 

“Yeah, I just couldn't fall asleep.” She pauses, thinking. “Do you sell non-alcoholic drinks?” Her question draws a laugh out of him. 

“Although I don't understand why someone would come to a bar if not to get drunk, yes, we do have non-alcoholic beverages. And sodas. You want something?” 

Betty smiles and nods. “Yes, please. A Coke.” 

“Coming right up.” 

Her fingers tap on the wooden countertop to the rhythm of the rock music that’s playing in the background, and for a brief second she thinks about Andrew and what he would think if he saw her now, sitting at a bar in the middle of the night. When she’d told Veronica about him coming all the way there and picking a fight with a bunch of Serpents, her friend had laughed and said it was her fault for stringing him along. 

Betty didn’t want to admit it at first, but Veronica was right. She had strung him along. Even though Andrew was…  _ Andrew,  _ being with him felt better than being alone, and he’d made it easy for her to embody the Californian persona of a strong, independent young woman. However, the way he had treated her the other day had proved to her what a mistake being with him had been and what an even bigger mistake the whole thing could have been if she had accepted his proposal over a year ago. She no longer had any regrets about breaking things off the way she did. 

“Coke, ice and lemon on the side,” Sweet Pea says, placing a bottle and a glass in front of her.

“Thanks,” she says. He nods and goes back to cleaning. “And...uh...thank you for punching Andrew the other night.”  _ Thank you for having my back _ , she added in her head. 

He laughs at her words. “Trust me, it was my pleasure. Besides, anyone who comes here acting like that is asking for it. That’s no way to treat a lady. He was lucky you stopped Jug, otherwise he would have to spend his khakis money on facial reconstruction.”

It was Betty’s turn to laugh. His words reminded her how much of a perfectionist Andrew had always been about his appearance. 

“From what Jughead told me, you guys don’t do that stuff anymore.” 

“Do what?” He asks, looking up from wiping the bartop. 

“Fight. Hurt people. Violent things.” She sips her Coke, watching him carefully. She had been waiting to confirm this with someone, hoping Jughead had told her the truth. 

“Oh. Yeah. Jughead has worked hard to straighten us out over the past couple of years. The Serpents were supposed to be all about community, but along the way it turned into what you probably remember: crime, fighting, drugs. Now, we help around the Southside with anything people need. Of course, sometimes the Ghoulies like to pop in, cause trouble, but even then we only protect our own.”

“That’s great, Sweet Pea,” she says, not knowing what else to say. 

He laughs. “You’re damn right it is. We’re legit now, no more illegal shit. Hell, we even encourage our younger members to go to school. Isn’t that right, Weasel?” 

A young guy looks up from the pool table, grins and strides over to them. “Is what right?”

Sweet Pea tousles his hair. “You’re a nerd now, going to school.”

The kid laughs and ducks away. “Yeah. Sweet Pea and Jughead told me I had to keep my head in school if I wanted to be a real Serpent one day, get my own jacket and all that.” 

“Weasel here,” Sweet Pea clasps the kid on the shoulder, “works on the Red and Black, the Southside’s school paper. Jughead helps him and some others when he gets the chance. Like you guys used to do when we were kids, Betty.” The last remark makes her look back at him; the mention of the past brings fond memories to the forefront of her mind. 

“You were a writer, too?” the teenager asks a bit shyly. 

“Yeah, I actually still am. I write for the LA Times.” 

“That’s so awesome, you’re a real journalist! I want to work for a real newspaper too someday...” 

“You sound like you’re not so sure,” she says. 

Weasel shakes his head. “I can’t afford college. Most of us can’t,” he says, shrugging. “I’ll just have to settle for writing in school until I graduate.” 

Betty wants to tell him that if he’s good, he doesn’t necessarily need to go to college. He just needs to keep publishing good work and find an editor who will take a chance on him. But before Betty can reply, Sweet Pea speaks again.

“Weasel. We’ve talked about that.” Sweet Pea gives him a pointed look. “Go back to your game, kid.” 

Weasel nods and does as he’s told, leaving Betty to shoot Sweat Pea a worried glance. 

“We try, but life isn’t always fair on this part of town,” he says.

“That much hasn’t changed,” Betty agrees. “But the work you guys are doing is really going to make a difference to these kids. It looks like it already has.” 

“That’s all any of us can hope for.” 

She takes another sip of her soda and waits as he pauses, seemingly thinking carefully about what he’s going to say next.

“You know, you don’t need to stay up, worrying about him. You should get some sleep,” he says. “Jug’s fine. And if you want, I can let you know once he gets back.” 

“Really? Thank you, Sweet Pea.” 

“No need to thank me, Cooper. Go get some rest.”

Betty smiles, finishes her Coke and leaves the bar. She’s half-way up the stairs when a voice stops her. 

“Miss Betty?” Weasel is standing behind her, a shy expression on his face. 

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering… would you mind speaking at the Red and Black one day? I think it would be really cool for everyone to meet a professional journalist.”

“Of course! It would be my pleasure,” she says, without hesitation. 

“Thank you, Miss Betty,” he says, all trepidation disappearing from his expression. 

She watches as he goes back to his game, her heart now at ease knowing Jughead is changing the Serpent’s legacy. 

\--

They have to stop on the side of the road a few hours into their trip back. The traffic is heavy and Jughead can’t focus. Fangs has been asleep for hours — the guy can sleep anywhere — leaving Jughead to his own devices. 

He gets out of the truck to stretch his legs and knows that he should try to sleep, too, but he can’t. He’s angry and worried and wants to get home to make sure Betty is okay. His phone has been off since he left the night before and he won’t turn it back on until he’s home safely. That’s always been the procedure. 

He walks up the road a ways until he finds a small diner. He orders himself a burger and coffee and sits outside on a picnic bench to devour it. As he eats, he lets himself think about what his future might hold if — no,  _ when _ — they find Matilda. Will he even be a good parent? He certainly didn’t have a good example of one growing up. What if he fails her?

He is the leader of a gang, and even if they don’t operate explicitly as one, that’s what they are. He grew up around violence and death and he certainly doesn’t want that for his own daughter.

Maybe Matilda would be better off without him in her life. Maybe Betty should go back to California, take Matilda as far away from him as possible. He’s nearly convinced himself of it by the time he reaches the bottom of his now-cold coffee. He goes inside and drinks two more cups before he ventures back to the truck to find Fangs still sleeping.

Jughead’s body is nearly vibrating with the amount of caffeine he’s consumed so quickly, but he thinks he’s ready to keep going. They’re still a few hours from Riverdale and if they don’t leave now, they’ll be home well after dark.

There is more traffic than usual and Jughead is irritated. Between the high volume of cars, construction turning the four lane highway into two and Fangs’ snoring, he’s smoked nearly an entire pack of cigarettes by the time they’re back in Riverdale, sun already set. 

Jughead drops Fangs off at his trailer before heading back to the Whyte Wyrm to see Betty. That’s all he wants, to see her. He’s  _ missed _ her in a way that he hasn’t in years and it confuses him. 

He walks in, rubs his hand over his face and goes immediately to the bar.

“She’s asleep,” Sweet Pea tells him. “For probably an hour or so now. What the hell took you guys so long?”

“You don’t even want to know,” Jughead says. “But nothing happened while I was gone?”

“No, sir. No Ghoulie sightings. That ex-boyfriend of hers hasn’t come back. All quiet on this front.”

He exhales in relief. He thinks about going upstairs to bed, but he doesn’t want to wake Betty. He thinks about going to the trailer to sleep, but it’s quiet and lonely there, and he wants to see her as soon as he can.

He mills around the bar, nursing a soda and playing some pool, waiting for his second wind to die down. It doesn’t until long after everyone is gone and the chairs are stacked on top of the tables for the night. 

He lays down in his corner booth and tries to find a comfortable position to sleep. But the second he closes his eyes, his mind whirls with images of what their daughter looks like. Blonde hair and blue eyes, or dark hair with green? He thinks either would be beautiful, but he hopes she’s just like her mother: smart, beautiful and adventurous. 

He can see them walking hand in hand to the park, visiting Archie and Veronica in Chicago, all three of them on the couch reading books as a family — as they should be. 

He is finally starting to drift off when he hears the upstairs door creak. He looks toward the stairs to see Betty. When she spots him, her smile is wide and warm and it feels like he’s home for the first time in so long.

“Jug? What are you doing down here so late?”

He sits up too quickly and winces at the pain in his back and neck. He stumbles as he heads her way, his vision blurry. He feels almost drunk, but knows he’s likely just exhausted. He’s familiar with the similar symptoms of both.

“Pea said you were asleep when I got back and I didn’t want to wake you up. ” He explains, rubbing the back of his neck to try to relieve some of the pain. It doesn’t help. He feels dead on his feet and all he wants to do is curl up and sleep somewhere comfortable, preferably next to the woman in front of him. 

“You should’ve come up. I bet this isn’t as comfortable as the bed or even the couch upstairs. Waking me up wouldn’t have been a problem.” 

He can see that she really means it, but he’s distracted by how adorable she is in her matching pajama set. “I know you haven’t been sleeping well, either. I’d rather you get a better night sleep, anyway.” He is swaying on his feet from exhaustion, the act of standing upright almost too much for him to handle.

“Here, let me help you.” Her voice is sweet and gentle and it makes something inside of him ache. “You can have the whole bed, now,” she says with a smile. “If you want to take a shower to help with your back, I washed the clothes you left here a couple of days ago.” 

He’s surprised for a moment that she noticed his back is hurting, but then he remembers how attentive she always was. Now it just makes him feel bad. He doesn’t deserve any of it. 

She guides him up the stairs with a sturdy hand at his back and before he can even make it to the bed, he slumps onto the couch. She was right — it’s worlds better than the booth downstairs. He throws his head back against the cushion but regrets it when his neck cracks in protest. He’s running on coffee and nicotine alone and as his energy quickly drains he loses the ability to judge what he should and shouldn’t say, so everything just comes out at once.

“You’re so good to me. I don’t even know why. I’m not good for you. I never was. You’re better off in California with someone like Andrew. Well, maybe not someone who is that much of a douchebag, but someone more honorable than me.”

He can feel her sit down next to him on the couch and turns his head dramatically to look at her. Her eyes are wide and she looks confused, but he can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“I assume you slept with him. Seems like you guys were together for a long time. He flew all the way here to see you. He probably knows how amazing you are. Not that it’s any of my business. But you did have sex with him, right? No. Nevermind. I don’t want to know.” If he didn’t know it before, it’s clear now: his lack of sleep has definitely disabled his filter.

“We were together for almost two years,” she says by way of explanation. He hates that he’s immediately jealous, but he can’t help it. “But if you think I’m better off with someone like him, you don’t know me that well.” 

He knows her better than anyone. She’d even said so the other night. “That’s not what I meant. I just mean that you deserve someone who can love you like you deserve to be loved and treat you like the amazing person you are. I’m sure he didn’t, judging from the way he spoke to you the other night, but I think you know what I’m trying to say. You deserve someone who is  _ capable _ of those kinds of things. I’m not, but here you are anyway.”

She takes a deep breath before replying. “I think you should try and get some sleep, Jug. You’ll want to be at your best tomorrow in case your guy comes back from Seaside.” 

“I can sleep later. I missed you. I just want to talk to you. Like we used to.” He can hear how whiney he sounds, but he can’t find the energy to care. “Besides, you never answered my question.” Why he’s torturing himself, he isn’t sure, but he can’t stop thinking about it.

“Yes I did. You know I did. I was with him for two years; of course I had sex with him.” 

“Lucky prick.” He means to think it but says it out loud instead. He probably should just listen to her and call it a night, but he just wants to spend time with her. They haven’t in so long and if he thought he missed her before, being away from her for a few days made it worse. “But you said you don’t love him. Did you, at one point?” 

“After everything I went through, losing Mattie that way, thinking she was dead, I guess love was the last thing on my mind. I don’t know what kind of person that makes me, but no, I never loved him. I just… couldn’t.” 

There’s something in her eyes, but before he has a chance to process what it could be, it’s gone. He remembers what she said about never being able to love someone who didn’t know her completely and it brings him some measure of twisted comfort.

“Wait, Mattie?” His sleep-deprived brain can’t process who or what Mattie is and if he’s supposed to already know this information.

“Oh, yeah. You can blame Veronica. Not only has she already decided on a nickname for our daughter, but she’s hellbent on being her favorite ‘aunt.’ Speaking of, she asked me something last night that got me thinking. She asked what I want to do with Matilda first if we get to bring her home. I told her I’d like to take her to Pop’s, since it’s a place that means so much to us. What about you? What do you want to do first?”

He stares at Betty, flabbergasted. He has no idea how to raise a daughter. 

“Nothing,” he says. “I’d just fuck her up.” His confusion morphs into sadness and he uses the last of his energy to hold back tears.

“Jughead. How can you even say something like that?” 

“How could I  _ not _ say something like that? My childhood was a disaster. My mom left and took my sister. My dad was an alcoholic gang leader and big surprise, I turned out just like him like everyone thought I would.” He laughs to himself. “You were smart to leave me behind, Betts. You would have resented me anyway.” He gestures around. “I have done nothing with my life. Thank God I’m not responsible for someone else’s.”

“Jughead, we’re not our parents! From where I stand, you can choose to either look at all the things that have gone wrong in your life, or you can look at how much you’re trying to be different. Sweet Pea told me about what you did with the Serpents, about how much you help the people around you. You’re a good man, Jughead Jones. Don’t let anyone, not even yourself, tell you otherwise. Matilda is lucky to have you as her dad, and I’m sure she’ll love you.” 

“That’s nice, Betty, but it won’t make me a good father. And it won’t matter if she loves me, because you don’t.” He leans his head back again and squeezes his eyes shut. He knows he shouldn’t have said that. It does matter if Matilda loves him, and her love is not dependant on Betty’s. But Betty doesn’t have feelings for him, so either way they’ll never be a real family.

“A part of me will always love you, Jug. You taught me what love is. You were my first love, my first everything. And even more, you gave me Matilda. I’ll always love you for that. No matter what happens, that will never change.” 

His heart is bursting at the confession and he isn’t entirely sure what to do with it. Would part of her be enough?

Betty is well aware of how close they are. She’s aware of the way he’s looking at her, blue eyes stuck, almost not blinking. And she’s also aware that this whole conversation is only happening because of his lack of sleep. Still, her heart is beating fast inside her chest and she’s not entirely sure why. 

She wants to tell him he’ll never leave his daughter like his mother did him. She wants to tell him he could never, not even in a million years, be a deadbeat dad like FP. And above it all, she wants to tell him he’s wrong, because leaving him, even if had been the right thing at the time, was the worst and stupidest thing she had ever done. 

She takes a deep breath and turns off her thoughts as she leans in, eyes never leaving his. Before she can even think about what she’s doing, his hand finds the back of her neck and he pulls her closer as his lips open up to ravish her mouth. Their tongues fall into a familiar dance and it’s like there was no time lost between them at all. She tastes coffee on his tongue and it takes her back to their first kiss, to how much she used to love that same taste. Her hands are on his neck, fingers playing with his hair and she’s almost on his lap when all of a sudden he pulls back. 

She sits there, breathing heavily, confused as to why he stopped. 

“Not that this isn’t amazing,” he says to her as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “but you said that finding Matilda was the priority.” 

She feels like he just dropped a bucket of ice-cold water on her head. The damn in her brain holding back her logical thoughts breaks and she feels stupid for getting caught up in her confusing feelings for him. He’s right, but the fact that he really took her goal to heart — enough to stop her sexual advances — just makes her feelings for him grow stronger.

“Yeah, no. You’re right. I’m sorry.” She gets up, moving away from him. “You should go to bed. I… I’m going to Pop’s, get us some breakfast. I’m sure you’ll be hungry when you wake up.” She doesn’t wait for him to answer before grabbing some clothes on her way to the bathroom.

By the time she’s done changing Jughead is already on the bed, curtains closed. She doesn’t say anything as she walks through the room to grab her bag, and leave. It’s only when she’s downstairs that she remembers she no longer has a car. 

“Shit,” she mumbles. 

“Everything okay?” Sweet Pea’s voice startles her into dropping her phone as she spins around.

He picks it up and hands it back with a light laugh. “Sorry. You need anything?” 

“Actually, yeah. I wanted to go to Pop’s, but I don’t really have a car anymore.” 

He moves around the bar, grabbing a set of keys from the wall. “Here. It’s Fangs’ truck, but he leaves it here so the Serpents can use it in case of emergency.” 

“This doesn’t really feel like an emergency.”

“If you ask Jughead, food is always an emergency.”

She takes the keys, smiling. “Fair enough. Thank you, Sweet Pea.” 

“No worries. Can you grab me one of those jam-filled donuts? I haven’t had one in ages.” 

“Of course! See you in a bit.” 

As she drives, all Betty can think about is the feel of Jughead’s lips on hers. The kiss thing has her so distracted she mistakes her order at Pop’s twice, and all she knows is that it’s a blessing the old man is so patient. She finally settles on something and takes a seat in what used to be their booth. Old habits die hard.

When Pop walks over with her order she’s staring off into space, still ruminating over her kiss with Jughead.

“Everything alright, Betty? You seem a little different today.”

“I’m okay, Pop.” She puts on her signature Cooper smile, but it feels strange on her face since. “Just tired, I guess.”

She feels uneasy as Pop continues to stare at her and the smile slowly fades from her cheeks. 

“Remember what I told you, kiddo. Be careful. Don’t fall back too easily into old habits.”

Betty smiles the best she can manage as he walks away. She’s never had a reason to doubt the old man, but now she thinks she might. She’s seen the good Jughead is doing on the Southside along with his Serpents. They aren’t who they used to be, but it seemed that no one on the Northside would ever see that.

When she gets back to the Wyrm Sweet Pea looks beyond happy she actually brought donuts, which he immediately abandons his post behind the bar to claim. They talk for a while before Weasel and two other Serpents join them, equally happy to accept her invitation to sit and eat. 

"Shouldn't you kids be at school?" Betty asks with a glance to the clock on the wall. 

"Yeah, but it's informatics and the school doesn't have enough computers for everyone, so we take shifts," one of the boys explains lightly. 

"Termite is working on that," Sweet Pea says before she can comment on how unacceptable she finds the situation. "And we've been collecting money for a while, so maybe by next school year we can donate some more computers." 

"Let me know if there's anything I can do to help," she says.

"Don't worry about it. You already have too much on your plate." He takes another sip of his coffee before continuing. "How's everything going, anyway? Any other leads?"

"Cheryl got us something in Seaside, but we're waiting on Jinx to let us know."

"He's good, I'm sure he'll come through soon."

After they eat Betty happily offers to help Weasel and his friends with their English homework. They're nice kids and it feels good to do something like this for a change.

Jughead makes an appearance after about an hour, hair wet and dressed in the clothes she washed. He still looks tired, but it’s nothing compared to how she found him earlier.

"Good morning," he says.

She eyes him worriedly, knowing he must have only gotten a few hours of sleep. 

"Don't worry, I'm used to power naps,” he says before she can even ask.

"If you say so,” she says with a shrug. "Are you hungry? I brought donuts and pastries from Pop's. They're in a box in the kitchen and there's a fresh pot of coffee, too." 

At the mention of food, he smiles. "Betty Cooper, you are incredible." He leans over and places a kiss on her cheek. If the look on his face is anything to go by, he realizes he shouldn’t have done it just as quickly as she separates from him. She hears someone clear their throat near them and blushes.

"I'm the one who made the coffee," Sweet Pea jokes as he taps his cheek playfully. "Am I incredible, too?" 

They all laugh as Jughead gives him the finger, then disappears into the kitchen. Her cheeks are still on fire and Sweet Pea raises an eyebrow.

“Shut up, Sweets,” she says, picking up her coffee cup and chugging the contents far too quickly, burning her mouth.

She watches as Jughead emerges through the kitchen door, his mouth stuffed with donut, a pastry in one hand and coffee in the other. She laughs to herself.  _ Some things never change _ , she thinks. She watches as he makes his way to Weasel and sits down.

“Are you working on that article for the Red and Black?” Jughead asks.

“Yeah,” Weasle says, and immediately pushes the paper toward Jughead.

“I haven’t seen this much red ink since…” He looks up at Betty, who wishes she still had some coffee left in her cup. She pretends to drink from it anyway.

“Miss Betty was helping us. She edits like you do, but I think she’s a little better at it.”

“Miss Betty, huh? Trust me, I know all about the red pen,” he says without looking away from her.

She can hear the two of them talking and laughing as she heads to the kitchen to refill her coffee.

“Oh, Jug. Mrs. Weiss called,” Weasel says as she makes her way back out. "Are you still meeting with her today about my progress? She’s got to give a report to the state or something. She said she tried calling, but she couldn’t reach you.”

“Yeah, we have a few things on the agenda today. No worries, kiddo.”

Betty’s heart warms as she watches Jughead with Weasel. He’s compassionate and caring, but stern when he has to be. How on Earth could he think he was going to be just like FP? She knows he’s made up his mind, but she also knows they’re both meant to do more with their lives than repeat their parents’ mistakes.

She decides to leave them to it and pretty much forces Sweet Pea to let her help around the kitchen. It’s a good way to pass the time and to distract her from thoughts of Jughead. On top of their kiss that morning, now she has to contend with images of him gently kissing her cheek and helping wayward teens. 

She’s done with the dishes all too soon, thanks to everything she learned from her crazy, borderline-OCD mother, and she’s back to the bar watching teacher Jughead before she knows it. The whole thing only makes her more sure of how good he would be with Mattie. 

She only looks away when a woman she first met years ago enters the Wyrm, a warm smile on her face. Jughead gets up to welcome her as Weasel hurries to set another chair at their table. 

“Betty, you remember Ms. Weiss?” 

She smiles, offering her hand. “Of course. It’s nice to see you again.” 

“It’s lovely to see you, too. How’s California?” The fact that Ms. Weiss knows about California doesn’t go unnoticed, but Betty lets it go. 

“California has been great, thank you for asking.” 

Ms. Weiss nods and follows Jughead to the table. Betty takes that as her cue to find her away back to the kitchen, where Sweet Pea is doing inventory. He rolls his eyes when she appears at his shoulder, but lets her help without a word.

Jughead is sitting next to Weasel when Mrs. Weiss settles in across from them and pulls out her padfolio to take notes. They finish up the little homework Weasel has left before Jughead checks the time.

“Bud, get to class. I know you alternate for informatics, but if memory serves, you’ve got algebra. I know you hate it, but get yourself there on time,” Jughead says as Weasel packs up his things. 

Jughead can see Mrs. Weiss smile out of the corner of his eye and he knows he’s doing the right thing. He watches as Weasel leaves out the front door with a few other teens.

“He seems to really like you, Mr. Jones. That isn’t a very easy feat. As you know, his brother has been missing for well over two years, his father passed when he was young and his mother is addicted to fizzle rocks. His success is a testament to you.”

Jughead shrugs off the compliment and pulls his chair closer to the table, resting his elbows at the edge. “I’m sorry you couldn’t reach me when you tried calling. I must have been in a deadzone,” he lies.

“Not to worry. Now, I have to ask you a series of questions. Please be as honest as you can be.” He nods, waiting for her to begin. He’s been through this routine before.

She asks her questions about Weasel’s grades, his after school activities, the friends he keeps. She asks if Jughead has noticed any strange behavior or if he’s seen any suspicious marks on Weasel’s body. Jughead’s stomach wrenches at the mention of possible abuse. He hadn’t noticed anything, but now that he knows it’s a possibility, he promises himself he’ll be more vigilant and keep a closer eye out.

Weasel is a good kid. He reminds Jughead of himself in some ways, though he does wish he had a better positive influence in his younger years, aside from Betty. Someone who could relate without passing judgement, who could help him in ways even Betty couldn’t. Though, he knows she’d have tried; she always did. 

They’re finishing up their conversation when Betty pops her head out from the kitchen and offers coffee. Jughead agrees immediately and Mrs. Weiss, after a moment’s pause, does too. Betty comes back a few moments later balancing three cups of coffee, one for each of them, and sets them down on the table.

“Now that business is taken care of, how are  _ The Chronicles _ going, Jughead? Your professors must be so proud of all the work you’re doing.”

He looks over to Betty to see her eyes widen. He hadn’t mentioned the fact that he was in school, but then again, she never asked. 

“They seem to like what I’ve written so far. I have one last essay to submit to complete the first collection. Hopefully, they’re not bored of it by now. It’s been a few semesters of writing very similar things.”

“You may think that, but I can assure you the work you’re doing is invaluable to the kids at the community center. Do you remember Frankie, from when you first started with me? Thanks to you, he’s gotten early admittance to his top choice college. He would never have gotten there if it weren’t for you.”

“He’s a smart kid, if a little misguided. He did it on his own. He worked hard for it.” He tries to stay humble, mostly because Betty is still standing there looking at him in a way he hasn’t seen since they first started dating. “But anyway, while Betty is here. I — we — actually have some questions for you, if you don’t mind. Unofficially, of course.”

“After everything you’ve done for these kids, you can ask me anything.” He gestures to Betty, pointing to the empty chair to him. 

Betty settles in next to Jughead, but not too close. He wonders about that choice, but doesn’t spend too much time dwelling.

“Mrs. Weiss,” Betty says after being prompted by Jughead to begin the conversation, “what do you know about the Sisters of Quiet Mercy?” Jughead watches as the social worker readjusts in her seat.

“I know they were shut down a few years ago. I know that some of the children were adopted, some ran away and some ended up on my desk needing to be relocated. And there were a few that we couldn’t find.”

Jughead swallows hard. He didn’t really believe in God, but if he did, he’d be praying that their daughter wasn’t one of the missing or fosters. He knew how bad it was to be in the system, and it had only gotten worse in his experience.

“What do you mean you couldn’t find them?” Jughead asks.

“We had their records, but there is a lot of missing information before it was turned over to the police. I’ve seen it before and heard whispering of… unethical adoptions. The Sisters would accept cash ‘donations’ in exchange for a child or two. There is never a record of where they go or with whom, so the state considers them runaways.”

Jughead can hear Betty’s leg bouncing up and down and he reaches over to steady her without thinking. 

“If we wanted to find a child that was under the Sisters’ care, how would we go about that?” Jughead asks carefully.

“Well, their records will be of no use to you. Everything has either been destroyed or lost in transit to the police station. I may have some in my office, but I would need to know what specifically you were looking for.”

Jughead looks to Betty, who nods before taking a deep breath.

“As I’m sure you are aware, I was pregnant our senior year of high school. We had a fight before my due date and my mother took it upon herself to make arrangements at the Sisters for me to have the child… quietly. You remember how much she valued public opinion. There were some complications when I was giving birth and I thought the child died, but I learned recently that’s not the case. She would be about five years old now. My mother said she set up a private adoption, but I don’t even know how to begin looking. We have her first name. That’s it.”

Jughead squeezes Betty’s leg in reassurance that they’re doing the right thing. Having to hear it again splinters his heart and he can only imagine how Betty feels. 

“I did hear about that. And I’m terribly sorry that you both had to endure such a tragedy. Many of the Sisters have relocated, or passed away since the closing, but there are still a few originals left who may know. Have you contacted the police?”

He laughs, but doesn’t intend to. The criminal justice system of Riverdale is unlike anything else in the world. It is ass-backward and makes no sense. The only thing they want to do is arrest Serpents, trying to blame Ghoulie shenanigans on them for years now. 

“No. And I think we both know why.” Mrs. Weiss nods in agreement.

“Well, whatever I can do to help, please let me know. As I said, you’ve been nothing but a Godsend to these kids, so if I can pay that back, I’d be more than happy to.” She smiles and it reaches her eyes.

Maybe he’s better with these kids than he thought. He still doubts his ability to be a father, but hearing from a social worker that he’s done some good for the children in his life gives him hope that maybe he can do right by one more. Mrs. Weiss gets up to leave and Jughead stands with her, shakes her hand and bids her a nice day.

He sits back down at the table with Betty and looks at her.

“That was a lot of information,” Betty breathes, and it sounds like she wants to cry.

“I know. But Jinx will be back soon, and we can finally do something about it. Until then, we wait.” He wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, shit. There have been quite a few developments in this chapter. Tell us what you thought about them! We LOVE to hear from you guys. As always, you can find us on tumblr: @itsmarscosta and @shrugheadjonesthethird or on the Bughead Family or Southside Archives Discords. If you don't know about them, DEFINITELY check them out.


	7. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, if you're still on this crazy journey with us. We apologize for the lack of updates lately. We set out posting this fic and we were very ahead of ourselves. Things were moving along swimmingly, until they weren't anymore. We hit a bit of a road block, but we are back with Chapter 7. Inspiration and time are fickle bitches, amiright?
> 
> That being said, we are both students (with a five hour time zone difference), with other things that unfortunately take priority over making sure we post in a timely fashion. We've been trying, I promise we have, but real life has to come first. Trust me, we'd rather be writing fanfiction for all you lovelies instead of research methodology proposals or babysitting freshman on their first week.
> 
> Without keeping you anymore, we hope you enjoy Chapter 7: One Step Forward, Two Steps back.  
> -Cyd & Mars

It takes Jinx a few more days to come back with information. Betty hadn’t realized just how thorough his notes were going to be. He had tracked the nun’s movements, her habits, even where she grocery shopped. 

Jughead and Betty each pack a bag as soon as Jinx gives them the information they need. They pack light and decide to take Jughead’s motorcycle, just in case they need to escape quickly. Jinx hadn’t seen any Ghoulies in Seaside, but they’re not taking any chances. Jughead arranges for Sweet Pea to keep everything under control with Toni by his side, but there isn’t much of a plan in terms of the trip itself.

As they pack the bike to head off, Jughead turns to Betty. “I have to make a quick stop in Greendale first. Is that okay?”

“Isn’t that in the opposite direction?” 

“I have to hand in my final assignment for class. It’s due tomorrow, but I don’t know when we’ll be back,” he says with a shrug.

Right, he’s in college. She isn’t sure how she managed to let that new information slip her mind. Now that she thinks about it, she has a million questions for him. Not only about school, but about how his life is, about what else he’s been doing while they’ve been apart. She realizes she doesn’t know the first thing about him now. She’d come here, thinking he was Serpent King, trapped in the same violent life his father had lived before stepping down and handing him the bloody crown. He might be rougher around the edges, but she thinks he’s still the Jughead she once knew, more worried about others than about himself, trying to be a good person. He’s still…  _ him.  _ The man she once loved more than words could ever express. 

Betty stays behind with the bike as he walks inside Greendale Community College, a black, plastic folder in his hand. She can’t help but feel proud to see him here, chasing his dreams. When he comes back, she has to ask. 

“So, college, huh?” 

Jughead looks at her and rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. It’s not Columbia like I wanted, but it’s something. Greendale offers classes from other colleges so you can earn a bachelor’s here instead of commuting. This was my last class.” 

She’s impressed to say the least. “Wow, Juggie. That’s incredible! Congratulations.” Betty finds herself hugging him before she even knows what she’s doing. He wraps his arms around her, too, and if anyone ever asked her what home is to her, she would tell them this was it. Her home. Her safe place. In his arms. 

The hug hangs for another moment, and it makes her think that he also doesn’t want to let go. A passerby eyes them, and they separate, the moment now awkward. 

“We should celebrate.” Betty suggests. “You know anywhere we could have lunch or coffee or something?” 

Jughead thinks for a moment. “I know just the place.” He says, offering her helmet. He drives for ten minutes to the town’s center, parking in front of a place named Cerberus’ Books _.  _ “I found this place when I first started college. It’s the perfect mix of a coffee shop and a bookstore, and the coffee is almost as great as Pop’s. The pie isn’t that bad either.” 

They sit there for a short while, just enough for them to eat and drink, before hitting the road. Neither of them are willing to delay their trip to Seaside any longer than necessary, especially since it’s already past the middle of the afternoon. As they drive, Betty holds onto him, and focuses on the warmth, and how lean his body feels under her hands. It’s the closest she’s been to him since the kiss.

The rain starts some time after they’ve left Greendale. It begins as a light drizzle, but it gets stronger as the night falls over them, soon turning into a full blown storm. She feels Jughead tense as the rain pours down on them relentlessly, and he pulls over. Through the rain, Betty can see the remains of an old bus stop. 

“We can’t keep driving in this,” he shouts over the rain. “We gotta stop for the night, or at least until the rain stops. There’s a motel a few miles down the road.” 

Betty nods as her teeth begin to chatter. The rain has soaked her to the bone. “How long? Can you make it there like this?”

“Five minutes or so. We’ll be fine.” He rests a hand on her arm wrapped around his waist. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Her heart beats faster. She feels like he isn't just talking about the ride and the rain.

The motel looks like an older, even more vacant version of Riverdale's only hotel, where she'd stayed upon arriving, but for now they don't really have a choice. After he parks the bike, Jughead takes off his helmet and looks around with eagle eyes. 

"Let me do the talking, okay?" His tone is gentle and Betty nods

Inside they’re greeted by the sound of a bell above the door, flickering lights and a tired-looking man who seems to be around their age. 

"Sixty for the night, twenty by the hour,” he says, without a glance in their direction.

Jughead knocks on the glass and the guy looks up at them for the first time. 

"Hello, Wes," Jughead says. He’s wearing a smile Betty doesn’t recognize and his tone is more menacing than she’s used to. His Serpent King persona surfacing, she realizes.

"Mr. Jones," Wes says, sitting up straighter. "It's thirty for the night, sir." He takes a key and slides it across the countertop. 

"Awesome," Jughead replies, taking money from his wallet and handing it over. Wes doesn't even count it.

"Have a good night, sir," he says, eyeing Betty suggestively.

Jughead puts an arm around her and his face becomes even more closed off, which Betty thought would have been impossible considering his current demeanor. He stares at Wes one last time before taking the key and heading toward the stairs outside. 

"So I take it you two know each other?" Betty asks after a moment. 

"You could say that. A while ago the Serpents got wind of someone selling jingle jangle in these parts. Wes got mixed up with the wrong crowd and just needed some reminding that selling hard drugs to kids wasn’t exactly a good idea in the long run. He's a bit of an idiot, but after he saw things our way and got him to stop dealing, he started giving the Serpents his employee discount." 

When Jughead opens the door to their room Betty finds it isn't as bad as she'd originally imagined. Still, she tries not to fixate on the questionable stains on the carpet while he sets their things on the table. 

"You okay?" Jughead asks after a moment. 

"To be honest, you kind of caught me off guard back there. You sounded different... intimidating." 

It takes him a long time to respond, and she continues casting her eyes around the room as she waits.

"Sometimes that's the only way," he says finally. "I don't like it. It's not who I am. But it gets things done." 

Betty nods as she accepts Jughead’s answer and decides to fully trust him. She knows the tough persona is just a mask he uses in times of need. 

She takes a deep breath and moves closer to him. "I'm going to take a shower real quick, just to warm up." 

"Yeah, go ahead. I wouldn't want you getting sick or anything." 

When she steps out of the bathroom, Jughead is setting snacks on the table. 

"I thought you might be hungry," he says. 

"Thanks, Jug." 

He smiles, grabs his things and heads to the bathroom. "Be right back."

She waits until he's done so they can eat together. 

"I'm hoping the rain will stop by morning so we can keep moving," he says, opening up a bag of chips. 

"Me too. At least we can rest a little before we have to face down a bunch of nuns.” She laughs once. “I remember them being anything but easy." 

He watches as she settles herself onto the only bed in the room and turns to her side. Her fingers are fidgeting with the hem of the blanket as she yawns and stretches her back. She isn't used to sitting on the back of a bike. Of course she’d be tired and sore. 

"Why don't you get some sleep? You look exhausted." He can see her eyelids getting heavy as he nods and drifts off.

He's sits at the desk for a while before he pulls a notebook from his bag and begins to write. Words flow out of him so easily that he fills dozens of pages before he stops. He hears the bed creak behind him and he knows she isn't sleeping well. He closes the pen into the spine of his notebook and searches his bag for pajamas.

In his haste, he must have forgotten to pack them.  _ Boxers it is then _ , he thinks to himself. He sits back at the desk and lights a cigarette, savoring the taste and the quiet around him. He can hear how uncomfortable she is by how she's breathing uneasily, so he sucks down the cigarette quickly and puts it out in the tray. He opens the window a crack and listens to the rain fall.

He climbs into bed next to her, like he has a few times already since she's been back. It doesn't cease to amaze him that her body still finds his, as if they’re opposite poles of two magnets.

He still doesn't know what their kiss from a few days earlier means. If it was real or just an old habit resurfacing. He remembers  _ most _ of the conversation, but he was so deliriously tired at the time that some of the memory was lost to the abyss. He  _ does  _ remember that the kiss was wonderful and he didn't want to stop it, but he felt like he had to. They have to put finding Matilda first.

She scoots her body closer to his and he can't help but wrap his arms around her. She sighs and snuggles further into him. But with this girl in his arms, he can't sleep. He's playing all of the scenarios in his head: good, bad, and indifferent.

After some time laying there she turns over to face him. In the dim light, he can make out her green eyes, now open and baring into him. His eyes flicker to her mouth and back. He pushes a still-damp piece of hair back behind her ear and smiles. Betty tilts her face closer to his and he can feel her breath on his cheek.

"Betty, you said…"

"I know what I said, Juggie," she says softly. She brushes her nose against his and he knows, like usual, he won't be able to resist her. His arm is still thrown over her waist and his fingers are twitching at her back. "But I  _ miss _ you."

The way she says it makes his skin burn in the best way. He feels it straight to the bone and the rest of his body is reacts in kind. He takes a deep breath, trying not to kiss her right there.

"I miss you too,” he says, “I've missed you since the second you walked out of my trailer door senior year. But you knew that.”

He guesses he says the right thing because the next thing he knows, her lips are pressed to his again, and this time he isn’t pushing her away. This time, he gives into himself, he lets his fingers curl into her back and he pulls her closer to him.

He can feel her entire body against his and he is reunited with a place he thought he’d never see again. He is sixteen, and the feeling of her kissing him is almost more than he can handle. Sure, he’s been with other women before, but none of them were her, and none of them he was this certain about.

He parts his lips for her tongue as it swipes against his lips and he never wants to forget what it’s like to kiss her ever again. He never wants to walk through life without her by his side and he tries to convey that without words, but he isn’t sure that he can. Her hand is gentle against his cheek as she leads him nearly on top of her as he turns. He pulls back and takes a breath, taking in her hooded lids and her parted lips as she nibbles on the bottom one, staring at him with all of the desire in the world.

“Tell me that this is what you want, and you’re not just using it as a distraction because you’re anxious about tomorrow.” His voice is breathy and he hopes to God that she wants this for the right reasons.

“Please, Juggie,” she nearly whines. “I want you, not because of this or being home or being nostalgic. I want you because I always have.”

That’s all he needs to hear before his lips are back on hers and he settles between her legs, pressed against her. He can hear her nearly whimper at the contact and he’d forgotten how much he loved how vocal she is. If this is what she wanted, he would savor it, afraid that in the light of day she’d change her mind. 

His lips trail from her lips to her neck, licking and sucking his way down to her pulse point, careful not to leave any visible marks. His hands are gripping at her waist, pulling her impossibly close. She’s breathing in his ear and the moans intermingle have him envisioning her falling apart by his hand. His hands are moving up her torso toward her chest and he pulls back to look at her, to make sure she hasn’t changed her mind.

Instead, he watches as Betty takes off her top, revealing her smooth, sunkissed skin. She’s looking at him expectantly, like she’s waiting for something. But he’s so overwhelmed by the last five minutes that he doesn’t know what to do, so he stares are her half naked underneath him. It doesn’t take terribly long for him to get his wits about him and he dives back in for a kiss.

It’s all teeth and tongue and it takes them a minute to find their once well-practiced rhythm, but when they get there, it’s like magic. His lips are at her collarbone as his hand paws at her chest. Her breasts have gotten bigger since he saw them last, but he’s certainly not complaining. He kisses down her neck to her chest, hot, slow, wet kisses leading to her nipple. As he swirls his tongue around it, he can feel her hand gripping into his hair and hear her breath catching in her throat.

He moans against her chest and switches to the other nipple before recapturing her lips and slowly rolling his hips into hers. He lets it go with a pop and her fingers curl deep into his hair, trying to hold him in place. 

“Can I see if you taste as good as I remember?” Jughead asks, nearly breathless. Her hips buck toward his and her grip loosens. It seems she still enjoys being talked to. “What do you say, baby?”

She nods her head furiously and breathes a  _ yes _ . He kisses his way across her chest and down her torso. He thinks he sees something, maybe a tattoo, between her breasts, but he shrugs it off for now, more focused on a different part of her body. He presses soft kisses to her hips and nips at the bone, sucking a mark as his thumbs tuck under the waistband of her sleep shorts. He slowly drags them down her thighs and moves out of the way to remove them completely. Her legs fall to either side of him and she is completely on display.

His mouth goes dry and he notices all of the ways she is both different and the same. She’s tanner than she used to be, a by-product of living in California, he’s sure. There are new freckles he’s never seen before, and if given the chance, he’d take more time to admire her, worship her like she deserves, but right now, he is a man deprived and doesn’t want to waste another second.

He slowly lowers himself between her legs, but before he dives in, he takes the time to smooth his hands up her thighs and push her legs further apart. It takes him a little longer than he likes to remember exactly how she likes things, but it clicks soon enough and he’s ready to go.

He asks one more time if this is what she wants, and her hands are in his hair, pushing him closer to her core. He takes that as an immediate green light. He kisses her inner thighs, slowly leading his way to her center, but he bypasses it and trails additional kisses down her other leg. He can hear her huff in frustration and he smirks to himself.

He keeps his eyes on her as he makes the first contact. His tongue darts from between his lips, a soft, tentative lick and her sharp inhale is the only goading he needs. His lips surround her clit and he sucks gently, slowly flicking his tongue against the bundle of nerves. He hears her sigh and has to stop himself from smirking again lest he get cocky and lose his focus.

His hands migrate to under her ass and he squeezes, bringing her closer to his mouth. H and her hips begin to rock on their own, trying to get him where she wants him, but he knows what will have her splintering in no time. He lets go of her clit and licks all of her in one fell swoop. The moans and whimpers escaping her are going straight to his groin and he can’t remember the last time he was this painfully hard.

One hand slips from her ass and drags across the skin of her thighs until his fingers are at her entrance. He circles her a few times, gathering moisture, and he smiles. One finger probes inside of her and her back arches up off of the mattress as and she whines in pleasure. He removes his finger and tries again with two and she grips tighter into his hair. He groans against her, lapping up her juices and continuing on, picking up his pace to nearly relentless. 

She is gasping and moaning his name. It’s always been one of his favorite sounds, how at each different angle, he can have her nearly panting his name or screaming in ecstasy, and he plays to his strengths. He maneuvers his hands to face upward and curls his fingers and pumps into her at his punishing speed. 

She tries to say she is about to come just as she explodes all over his fingers and tongue. She really does taste as good as he remembers, maybe even better. He devours all she has to offer as he helps her through her high, trying not to dwell on the fact that his cock has only gotten harder as he listened to her. When her body stops shaking and her fingers release his locks, he pulls back, placing gentle kisses to her thighs again before he sits up and wipes his mouth across his arm. 

He looks down at her and she’s still breathing heavily, trying desperately to catch her breath. He loves that he did that to her, that he finally had gotten the chance to do it again. 

She lays there panting, looking up at him hovering over her. His eyes are so dark there’s hardly any of her favorite shade of blue left. She sits up and nearly pounces on him, claiming his lips and tasting herself on his tongue as they kiss. When she said she missed him, she didn’t mean just him physically. She missed how he made her feel, how she always felt like she was the center of his world, especially when it was them alone together.

She pushes him on his back and rids him of his boxers in a hurry. She isn’t paying attention to much but his cock, but she knows his body doesn’t look the same as it did before. She’ll take more time to look later, but for now she needs him in a way she’s never needed anyone before. She takes one last lingering glance at him before she straddles him and reclaims his lips.

As she slowly lowers herself down on him, teasing herself on his cock, she can feel him tense up. It’s almost overwhelming for her, still being sensitive from orgasm, but she persists. She’s slow and tentative as he had been at first, but when moans against her lips she loses control and finally sinks down until she can feel every inch of him to her core.

He turns his head and a half-moan, half-grunt escapes his lips from deep within his chest. She presses her palms against his chest and sits up straight, her back arching as he hits a spot that hasn’t been touched in years.

_ It was never like this with Andrew,  _ she thinks before erasing the thought from her mind. This was not the time to think of her ex-boyfriend. She watches Jughead instead and bites her lip, trying to hold back the groan of pleasure she’s holding in. But his hands grip at her hips and his thrusts are in perfect sync with hers, so she can’t help herself.

One of his hands trails up her torso to her chest and his long fingers pinch her nipple. Her eyes momentarily flutter shut, but when she looks back at him he’s still looking at her like a man starved. Her nails curl into his chest, trying to ground herself as another orgasm builds.

She rolls her hips expertly and feels him start to shake as she works to get him off in time for her own orgasm. Betty leans forward, capturing his lips again, and gasps when he picks up his pace to compensate for the new angle.

“God, baby. You feel so goddamn good,” he moans when she releases his lips. Even that slight praise is enough to catapult her over the edge again. She continues to ride him slowly until he moans her name like a prayer and they’re both fully satiated. 

Without moving her off his lap, he sits up to kiss her. She can feel so much love pouring out of him, and knows that was the right choice. He is still her Jughead, still the same awkward boy she knew way back when. He may be older and a little scared, but he’s still fundamentally him.

He holds her close to him, disconnecting their lips to hug her tightly. He breathes a trail of gentle kisses across her shoulder and they’re nearly as intoxicating as everything else he’d just done. 

They stay like that for a little longer. Betty is too afraid to move, too afraid to break the bubble they’re in. If she moves, it’s over. She isn’t ready to face whatever is going to come at them next. 

“Hey. You okay?”

She leans back and smiles, kissing him soundly on the lips.

“Better than okay,” she reassures him, reluctantly moving from his lap to clean up in the bathroom. When she returns, he has his boxers back on and is laying on the bed, one arm behind his head.

Betty’s eyes are immediately drawn to the tattoos that litter his upper body. She’d noticed them a while ago, when he’d first laid by her side, but she had other things on her mind then. 

Now she feels like she has all the time in the world. Slowly and silently, she traces a finger over the one on the underside of his left arm  — a latin inscription.

“Sed fugit interea, fugit inreparabile tempus,” he recites by memory, looking at her. “Something about how time flies and can’t be repaired.”

She moves her hand down, a few inches beneath his Serpent tattoo, to trace a red converse sneaker. Its shoelaces are untied and an assortment of different colored jelly beans surround them. 

“This one you got for Jellybean?”

Jughead nods. 

“How is she? Does she visit?”

“She’s fine. She should have graduated from high school this year, but with the move and all of the family issues, she’s got another year. She’ll be eighteen soon. She’s only visited once, says she doesn’t like it here and I can’t really blame her. Riverdale isn’t home for her. It hasn’t been for a long time.” 

When he doesn’t say more, Betty goes back to studying his tattoos. On his chest, just above his heart, is a delicate line of flowers arranged in the shape of a heart. She looks at him curiously, carefully tracing the line of blooms.

“What kind of flowers are these?” She taps her finger on his chest. 

He stares at the tattoo for awhile, as if it’s his first time seeing it. “They’re forget-me-nots,” he finally says. “I didn’t want to forget about what happened, not that I ever could.” 

Betty feels tears building behind her eyes and she blinks, willing them back. She leans back and points to her own tattoo  — a small unblossomed rose bud situated between her breasts.

“I know the feeling.” 

He pulls his arm from behind his neck and runs his hands between the valley of her breast. It feels far more intimate than their entire night together. The pad of his finger rests just below the ink as he leans forward to kiss the rose. 

As he leans back against the headboard, Betty notices another patch of ink that she’s never seen before.

The ink spans from the cap of his shoulder to his elbow. She wonders how she’s missed it. She looks at it carefully, taking in the details and line work: a compass with its dial pointing South, a magnifying glass focused on an open book, with two crowns on either side of what looks like sand grooves connecting the piece together. She almost misses it, but when she looks back at the magnifying glass, she notices what is written on the pages. One letter on each page.  _ E. C. _

She looks up at him and this time she’s sure she won’t be able to stop the tears. “Is… is that for me?” 

Jughead nods slowly. “Every good thing about my childhood included you, from the time we were seven years old. Did you really think that was going to just go away because you left? I told you, Betty.” He reaches up and cups her face gently in his palm and she can’t help but lean into the sensation “I can’t and won’t forget you, no matter what happens after this.”

Betty feels every word hit her heart deep. She takes a deep breath and lowers her head to his shoulder. She doesn’t want to complicate or ruin the moment by saying something. 

“Uh, what do you want to do tomorrow?”  _ How subtle,  _ a voice in her head mocks. 

“I think we should get some sleep, Betts. It’s still raining and tomorrow will be a long day. We can decide the plan of action in the morning.”

She nods, closing her eyes as his fingers start caressing her hair. 

She wakes up to the feeling of an empty bed. It’s light outside, and the rain has finally stopped. Jughead is nowhere to be seen as she gets up and heads to the bathroom. Memories from the night before flood back and hit her like a ton of bricks as she stands naked in front of the mirror.. Every kiss, every touch, she can feel again if she just closes her eyes. Part of her worries they made a mistake, but the other part is so beyond happy that it swallows the concern. They’ll figure it out. Somehow. Together.

She leaves the bathroom already dressed for the day just as Jughead enters the room. “Good morning,” he says as he closes the door. The smell of smoke clings to him as he makes his way over to her. “Are you okay?” There’s something in his voice, something uneasy, and she realizes he’s probably waiting for her to say something he doesn’t want to hear about last night.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She moves closer, kissing his cheek gently. “Good morning to you, too.” He smiles, all traces of nervousness gone from his face. 

"So how do you want to do this?" Jughead asks, sitting down on the bed.

"Well, I've been thinking. This nun has no reason whatsoever to tell us anything, and we need to be very careful with what we say because if she gets any idea what we’re up to, she’ll run for the hills." Jughead frowns. "Unless we show her we’re interested."

"What do you mean?"

"According to Ms. Weiss, the nuns carry out illegal adoptions, right? So why else would they think we’re seeking them out, other than for a service only they can provide?" 

Jughead pauses to mull over her words. "Are you suggesting we pretend we want to illegally adopt a kid?” 

Betty nods. “I know it’s not exactly ideal, but I think it’s the only way she’ll tell us anything. We can pose as a rich couple who heard rumors about the adoptions and are looking to see if they’re still in business.” 

“Okay,” Jughead finally agrees. “But there’s one problem with your plan. I don’t exactly look like rich husband material.” 

Betty laughs. “Well, then it’s probably a good thing I found a mall between here and Seaside.” 

“You’re a genius, Betts.” 

They don’t take nearly as long as he thought they would at the mall. They’re able to find convincing outfits to play the part of a rich, married couple looking to illegally adopt their daughter back. He felt like they were seventeen again, browsing the racks at the thrift store and imagining what their future would hold. But that was before Betty had gotten pregnant and their dream of spending the rest of their lives together was stripped from them.

While Jughead’s lost in thought they’re getting closer to the location Jinx had given them as the Sisters’ residence. They’re on a narrow, quiet street where his motorcycle definitely stands out, but they’re on a mission and he isn’t going to let that dissuade him from continuing on their quest to find Matilda. He slows to a stop and rips the helmet from his head, securing it to the side of the bike after dismounting and helping Betty off as well.

“You really think we can pull this off?” he asks, tugging at the bottom of his suit jacket. He can’t even remember the last time he’d worn one. Homecoming sophomore year, or maybe it was Midge’s funeral. He can’t be sure. What he is sure of is that Betty looks absolutely stunning beside him.

She found a sensible, navy blue pencil skirt and paired it with a white tank top and blazer and he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her legs. He was convinced she’d done it on purpose. He knows exactly what’s underneath her clothing, not that the outfit leaves much of her shape up to his imagination anyway, and he’s distracted by the memory of the night before, even if he still doesn’t fully understand what it meant. 

He thought he was imagining how she walked closer to him while they were at the mall, or how she pressed her body to his on the back of his bike, but when she takes his hand as they walk toward the house, he knows he isn’t. He wants to ask her if this means they are an  _ us _ again, but he bites his tongue as she knocks on the door and they wait.

An older woman answers the door and looks at them with furrowed brows.

“Sister Katherine Marshwood?” he hears Betty ask. Her voice is full of hope, and what he thinks might be recognition, but he can’t be sure.

“How may I help you fine young people today?” she asks, her voice shaky and apprehensive.

“May we come in? We’d like to talk to you about an opportunity we heard you might be able to provide for us, one you may have dabbled in previously,” Jughead says, alluding to what they want but being intentionally vague, just in case.

Sister Katherine’s eyes widen and he thinks he can see the ghost of a smile on her face, but he doesn’t get his hopes up. He can feel Betty squeeze his hand a little tighter when Sister Katherine opens the door and he knows she’s trying not to show her excitement.

This is the first step of many to getting more information. The sister guides them to her dining room table and Jughead keeps his head on a swivel, noticing the home is more lavish than what he pictured for a former nun. He’s more sure now than ever that they’re on the right track with her. 

“May I get you some tea or coffee?” 

Just as Jughead is about to agree, Betty says, “No, thank you.” He gives her a glance and her face is practically screaming at him to trust her. 

Sister Katherine takes a seat opposite them and looks them over, considering them for what seems like forever. Jughead feels like he’s on display and he’s getting uncomfortable, but he cannot let it show. He knew he’d have to do a bit of acting, and he had no doubt that Betty could play the part by his side.

“You two look awfully young to require the… services we offer. Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

“We’ve been looking for a long time. We must have tried a few other places before we finally found you. You are the same Sister Katherine who aids in  _ adoption _ , are you not?” Betty stresses the word adoption and Jughead sees the smirk on her face.

“That is correct. But, my statement still stands. You two look awfully young to be looking at adopting.” She eyes them warily again, but he knows what he has to do. Betty had once told him his charm was going to take him places. It’s time to test that theory out.

“Sister Marshwood,” Jughead says, and he barely recognizes his own voice. “I do not see why age has anything to do with this. We are seeking a service that you say you can provide. If you are not interested in helping us, and being compensated handsomely for your efforts, we can find one of your other associates.” He has no idea where that string of words came from, but they seem to have worked.

“No, please, Mister--” she pauses and Jughead realizes they’d never discussed a name. Obviously they won’t use either of their real ones.

“Genevise,” he says. It’s the first name that pops into his head, probably because he was thinking about his English professor and what the man thought about his latest assignment. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Genevise, it would be my pleasure to assist you. All I require is some basic information about what you’re looking for.” The cheshire cat smile on her lips is deeply unsettling, but if this is what they have to do to find their little girl, he knows he’ll endure it and much more.

He wishes he could give this woman a description of their daughter, but he has no idea what she looks like. They only know how old she is and her first name, but saying any of that would surely give them away.. 

“We’re looking for a child that could pass as our own,” Betty says, taking the lead. “Preferably a girl.”

The sister taps her fingers against the table, seemingly to think about Betty’s request. It seems simple enough, he thinks, but also knows what they’re asking is definitely a tall order. He hopes they aren’t making a mistake by going the deceptive route.

“Is that a problem?”

“Girls are in very high demand, but I know of a few other resources in the area that may be able to help you out. Did you have a specific age in mind, or will any do?”

Jughead looks to Betty and she twitches her eyebrows up, giving him the reins. 

“Maybe around kindergarten age? I’m sure you understand the hassle babies can be.” He hates the way he sounds saying it, but apparently Mr. Genevise does not like infant children.

Mr. Jones, on the other hand, would give anything to be able to have been around his daughter as an infant, to have had a hand in raising her, even to know what her favorite color is, or what color her hair is.

“Oh, that’s good. So many people want infants. I’ve never understood the appeal,” she says in disgust. “I have a few more questions for you, Mr. and Mrs. Genevise. I hope you don’t mind.”

Jughead wonders why they need to answer additional questions, but if they are going to be convincing, they needed to be a united front. He makes eye contact with Betty and they both immediately know what they have to do. It’s like high school all over again, going on investigations and finding the truth from those who were guarding it.

“What is it you do for a living?”

“I’m a professor, and my wife is the executive assistant to a very powerful man in New York. Unfortunately, she cannot talk much about her work. Confidentiality and all,” he says, hoping that would be the last of that line of questioning. 

“What do you teach?”

He is so thankful he’s quick on his feet. “Classic Literature.”

“Where do you folks live or plan on raising this child, should we find one?”

“We’re in Manhattan right now, but if this were to all work out, we are going to move to a suburb. Somewhere nice with a yard and a good school district,” Betty supplies seamlessly.  _ God, she’s amazing _ , he thinks not for the first time since she’s returned to his life.

“Anywhere to give our future darling the best education we can,” Jughead adds, taking Betty’s hand and smiling. 

“Why adopt? Why not have a child yourselves?” the Sister askes. Jughead thinks it’s a little insensitive, but he understands why she has to ask.

“I can’t have kids, Sister Marshwood,” Betty explains. “We’ve tried for years, but unfortunately, according to the doctor, I have an inhospitable uterus.” 

Jughead blinks and is amazed all over again at how brilliant she is on the spot. He looks down at his lap and squeezes Betty’s hand. From the outside, it looks like a show of solidarity and support for his wife, but out of character he’s trying to tell her how wonderful she is. He hopes she picks up on it.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Mrs. Genevise.”

“Thank you, but as you can see, adoption seems to be our option. Surrogacy isn’t for us, either. We would much rather adopt.”

“That’s an admirable decision.” The nun seems to be buying into their story, and for that he’s thankful. “And how did you come to hear about these particular services?”

Jughead looks at Betty — they’re both at a loss for words.

“An associate suggested this specific type of adoption, and I can assure you she slid me your information very quietly. She said she and her wife were very happy with your services.”

This woman is amazing. He can’t think it enough. He’ll have to remind her once they’re out of this situation. He’d nearly forgotten what a quick thinker she is, but he’s sure he’ll never forget again.

“Ah, yes. We’ve helped many same-sex couples that other agencies refuse to help. Despite us being  _ somewhat _ religiously affiliated, we do not discriminate based on parental sexual orientation. We simply ensure that the,” she clears her throat, “compensation is adequate.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Betty says with a saccharine sweet smile on her face.

After a few more questions and a few quick phone calls from the nun to her so-called associates, Sister Katherine Marshwood hands them a slip of paper with a name and address on it. 

Sister Agatha Woodhouse

1452 Primrose Drive, Centerville

"I do hope we can find what you are looking for," she tells them after a moment. "It always makes us especially happy to know these children will have a proper life, with the right kind of parents."

She puts a strange emphasis on  _ right _ . Jughead and Betty exchange a look at her words. 

"What do you mean, Sister?" she asks gently, smiling again.

"Well, many of these poor children find their way to us because they have unfit parents who have brought them into this dangerous world without the intention of providing a decent and safe life. Over the years, I've seen it all. Parents who’ve abandoned their children. Alcoholic fathers, drug-addicted mothers, neglect, all types of abuse.The list goes on. On one hand, it saddens me that nice people such as yourselves have such a difficult time having children on their own, while many who don't deserve the miracles they are given take it all for granted. Though, I am happy to be in a place where I can unite good parents and children in need."

Betty smiles again, agreeing with the sister, but he doesn't hear what she says because his mind is replaying the sister’s words about unfit parents and alcoholic fathers who don't deserve their children. It's almost as if the universe, God, karma, all of it, are telling him what he already knows. 

“It’s undoubtedly a greater calling, Sister,” he hears Betty say as she presses down on his leg, gently bringing him back from his thoughts. “And we appreciate everything you’ve done for us so far.” 

“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. and Mr. Genevise.” The sister starts getting up, indicating their meeting is over. 

“Thank you again, Sister Katherine,” Betty says, offering up her hand. She gives Jughead a look while she’s at it, and he snaps out of his head long enough to offer his own hand for the sister to shake. 

“Yes, Sister. Thank you very much.” 

“I wish you both the best of luck.” 

Betty felt like she was holding her breath through the entire conversation, but as they walk out she feels like her lungs are finally taking in oxygen again. The meeting gave her hope that she’s going to see her baby girl again, that not all is lost. They still have a long way to go, but now at least they know which direction to head. Getting to Sister Woodhouse was going to be a little more complicated, especially because they’d met before, but in her heart Betty knows they will find a way to do this. They’ll do anything in their power to get Mattie back. They’re almost back to the bike when she notices how quiet Jughead is. 

"Jug? You okay?" 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” His tone is serious and a little distant. Betty imagines he is, like her, thinking about all they heard in the past hour, so she just climbs on the bike behind him and they ride in silence. 

"I'm going to check us out,” he says once they’re parked at the motel. “I'll meet you in the room in a few." He removes his helmet and walks away before she can respond. By “checking out” he must mean paying something else to creepy Wes, because she's sure the last thing this place has is checkout rules. 

When he gets back to the room no less than 20 minutes later, the first thing she notices is the strong smell of cigarettes. The second is how passive aggressively he's shoving his things inside his bag. 

"Jughead? What's going on? You seem off since we left Sister Katherine's house." 

"I said I'm fine, Betty."

"I know you said you're fine but your voice and the way you're acting are telling me otherwise." She steps closer to him, putting a hand on his arm. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"It's nothing. We should finish packing and go. Wes said he needs the room soon." 

It's clear to Betty he's not telling the truth, that there's something going on his head that's bothering him. With the hand she still has on his arm, she tugs and forces him to stand face to face with her. Gently, she raises her hand to cup his face like he used to do to her when she wasn’t making eye contact. "Juggie, you can talk to me." 

He steps away from her and Betty's heart sinks. 

"You want to talk? Fine. Let's talk." He starts to pace. "Did you forget how different we are? Like, on a cellular level?"

She feels her eyes widen involuntarily and takes a step back like she’s been hit. She had no idea the thing making him so agitated was her. "What? Where is all of this coming from? I thought we were in a good place after last night."

"Think about it. We  _ never _ made sense. What makes you think this time will be any different?" 

"Why are you saying these things?"

"Because we can’t ignore them anymore, Betty. This isn’t even about us. It’s about our daughter. I'm going to be a deadbeat, alcoholic father, and that’s if we can even find her and she  _ wants _ to come with us. You heard Sister Marshwood. Matilda deserves better than that, better than me. You both deserve better." 

Betty’s dread is quickly replaced by disbelief and anger. 

"Excuse me? Are you honestly applying Sister Baby Snatcher's words to yourself right now? Jughead, you're not an alcoholic and you will not be a deadbeat dad! We've been through this before and I told you then what I'll tell you now. We are not our parents. We are better. We will do better. Mattie is lucky to have you as her father."

"How do you know that? How can you stand there and honestly tell me that she's lucky to have me? You've been gone for five  _ years _ ." 

_ Round and round we go, and somehow we're always back here _ , she thinks, studying him.

"Yes, Jughead. I was gone for five years, but I know you. That's how I can stand here and be honest with you. Because I know who you are and nothing you say can make me think otherwise.” She takes a breath and lets her anger boil down to disappointment. “Especially after last night,” she says more quietly. 

"Why especially after last night?" He leans against the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. 

Betty feels like hitting him. "You know why! You were here, too. You can't tell me you didn't feel the same way I did." She's being loud again but she couldn't care less. 

"I  _ could _ tell you that." 

His words hit her like a slap in the face. Betty stares at him, waiting for him to continue, to say something else, an apology, anything. Instead, he’s frozen, leaning on the desk, staring at her with a blank expression. She isn't sure what frustrates her more -- his words or his silence. 

The staring contest only lasts for another minute because he turns around and starts packing his things again as if nothing had happened. Betty shoves her belongings in her bag in record time, zips it shut and makes sure to slam the door on her way to the parking lot. 

They ride to back Riverdale in silence and the whole drive seems to take much longer than it did before. Betty makes a mental note to get herself a new car to avoid more awkward rides with Jughead. 

Finally, they arrive at the Wyrm. Jughead marches up to the apartment without even a nod to Sweet Pea, who's behind the bar looking happy to see them.

"Something wrong with the lead?" he asks Betty, genuine concern apparent in his tone. She offers him a small smile.

"No, the lead was solid and we're one step closer to finding our daughter." She pauses for an instant, trying to hold herself back from saying anything too disparaging about Jughead to his friend. She fails. "Jughead just shoved his head too far up his ass." 

As if on cue Jughead comes back down, his bag significantly more full. He barely looks at her as he grabs his helmet from the countertop. Betty shakes her head at how he's acting, sure that if not for Sweet Pea and the other patrons, they would probably be arguing again. Or she would be arguing and he would be staring at her like an all-knowing idiot.

"Trouble in paradise?" Sweet Pea teases, looking between the two. Jughead gives him a hard look before storming out without looking back. Not wanting to be left standing aimlessly in his wake, Betty grabs her bag and goes to the apartment, too tired for anything else. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have theories of what's going to happen? We'd love to hear them! Let us know what you think in the comments or on tumblr: @itsmarscosta and @shrugheadjonesthethird. 
> 
> You can find us both on the Bughead Family Discord (if you're not a member and would like to be, hit me [Cyd] up and I can get you in contact with one of our amazing admins!) Don't forget to keep an eye on @riverdale-events who host an amazing variety of themed events throughout the year. Up currently: Kink Week (if that is your jam).


	8. When the Truth Hunts You Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Remember us? We're sorry for the delay, but yet again, real life has gotten in the way of the fanfic writing dream. We're working with very different time-zones and university schedules. I know we say it every time, but we really are sorry it's taken us so long. We hope that this chapter will be everything you guys want it to be. We left you a little bereft with Jughead's actions, but hopefully this will fix that.
> 
> Just a quick trigger warning: this chapter deals a lot with Jug and his struggle with alcohol, so if that bothers you, tread lightly.

Try as he might, Jughead cannot get out of his own head. It has been a few days since he fought with Betty and he feels terrible about it. Really, he does, but more than that, he can’t forget what Sister Marshwood had said about unfit and alcoholic parents. 

He knows he isn’t an alcoholic, but he knows that he’s had an unhealthy relationship with the stuff since he was a teenager. He watched as it overtook his father for the better part of his childhood, a problem that he knew stemmed from his long deceased grandfather, Forsythe. He’d heard the stories about what it was like for FP growing up and he swore to himself he’d never be like him, but before he could stop it, he had — at least in his own eyes.

When Betty left, he tried to fill his time with writing and wallowing and naps, but eventually, it wasn’t enough and he resorted to the bottle. It snuck up on him slowly. Before he knew it, he was drinking everyday, and snippets of his life were lost to the haze of alcohol..

For the first few days, he isolated himself to the trailer, thinking that it would eventually wear him down and he’d go apologize, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He knew he should, but fundamentally, he couldn’t agree with Betty. He was a product of his environment and he didn’t want that for their daughter. He didn’t want to force himself or his ideals or his terrible life on her. That is, if they even got to bring her home. 

He had convinced himself that she was better off without him, had practically given up on the thought of finding her. The paper with Sister Woodhouse’s address was pinned to the corkboard in the dining room of the trailer, so he knew Betty couldn’t go alone to find her. He ignored the nagging voice in the back of his head that told him to pull his head from his ass and just talk to her like a normal human being, but he figured it was a lost cause. 

He knew she wouldn’t leave town, not without Mattie, and she was at a dead end without him and his connections. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to find their daughter, he absolutely did, but what good would it do? He was so convinced that he’d ruined everything by his outburst. Ruined the chance of finding Mattie, being a real family. Ruined his last chance with Betty.

He replayed their fight over in his head. The words he’d spat at her — _I could tell you that_ — should’ve been followed by _but it would be a lie_ , but they weren’t. How could he have implied that their night together didn’t mean anything? It had meant _everything_. He knows he said it to hurt her and to sabotage himself. And that, he is sure, makes it so much worse.

Betty had been everything to him since they were children. She was the bright spot in so many dark memories. She still was the light of his life and he hated himself for making her feel like anything other than that  —  then and now. He wants to make it up to her, go running back to the apartment, tell her he lied and beg for forgiveness. But it’s too late for that. He let his self-doubt and anxiety spiral and get in the way of everything he’s ever wanted.

By day three he is so enraged that he rips the boxes of notebooks from his closet. He doesn’t want them around, haunting him, reminding him that he is an idiot for giving up without a fight. He gathers every notebook he has  —  even the hidden ones he’s tried to forget about  —  and throws them into another box.

He cradles the box under his arm and storms out of the trailer, heading to the back to the park where they used to have bonfires in their teen years. He finds an old canister of lighter fluid and arranges kindling in the drum. He empties the entire canister, dousing the wood, and drops in a match unceremoniously.

He drops the box of notebooks to the ground and picks one up, flipping through the pages. This particular one is blank but was a gift from Betty, so he tosses it into the flames. He watches as the pages catch fire and the leather begins to smoulder. He isn’t entirely sure what he hopes this will accomplish, but in his skewed mind, he thinks it’s helping.

He watches until the first notebook becomes a pile of embers, then grabs a second one and repeats the process. He is lost in the dance of the flames licking the unlined pages, so much so that he doesn’t hear someone approach him until there are hands on his shoulders turning him away from the barrel.

“Jughead, what are you doing?” Veronica stands in front of him, arms crossed and foot tapping.

“I think this is what they call burning a bridge,” he laughs, leaning down to grab another notebook to toss on the fire. Before he can throw it in, Veronica grabs it from his hands. He can feel the anger rising in his chest. “What are you doing here, Veronica?”

“I’ve come to talk some sense into you. Clearly you need it.”

“And why is that, exactly?”

“Jesus, Jughead. You’re doing it again. Why are you trying to push her away  _ again _ ? The universe has given you a second chance. Don’t fuck it up. Any longer on this freeze out and she’ll find Mattie on her own. And she’ll definitely move back to California. And you’ll never see either of them again. So you can pretend all you want that whatever happened on your trip to Seaside didn’t matter, but we all know that it did. And it does. And it always will.”

This is not what Jughead wants to hear. He knows he’s been given a second chance. He knows he’s screwing it up. And he knows that it isn’t just him and Betty anymore. He knows there is a chance they might find their daughter, just as much as he knows there’s a chance they won’t be able to do anything about it once they do. He knows all of these things, but he doesn’t want to hear them.

He can feel his heart racing in his chest and he stares back to the burning kindling and leather. Burning a pile of notebooks won’t change what happened. He’ll never forget any of it. He never wanted to. But he doesn’t know how to stop fucking everything up. 

He needs a drink and quickly.

\--

He lasts five days in near isolation — three spent clearing out the stashes of alcohol still in the trailer by way of his mouth, then stumbling over himself until he passed out on the bathroom floor, and two spent alternating between moping and sleeping — before he dares go back to the Whyte Wyrm. He’s ignored phone calls from Betty, Sweet Pea and Toni long enough. As he pulls into the parking lot, he hopes Betty isn’t there. He can’t face her yet.

The bar is dead and for that he is thankful. Sweet Pea is organizing whiskey bottles on the shelf. There’s one on the counter that he takes and brings to his nose to smell. The glass is barely touching his lips when Sweet Pea snatches it from his hands and puts it back on the shelf, out of his reach. He glowers at the taller Serpent and plops himself in the far barstool, just like he used to before Betty came back and uprooted his entire existence.

“Where have you been? We’ve been trying to get in touch with you for days.” Sweet Pea is angry, that much Jughead can hear in his voice.

“I’ve been around. Guess you didn’t try hard enough.”

“God forbid it was a real emergency,” Sweet Pea scoffs, placing a tall glass filled to the brim with Coke in front of Jughead. “But I guess that’s why you couldn’t hack it as leader anymore.”

Jughead knows that Sweet Pea is just trying to get a rise out of him, and he doesn’t want to prove him right, but he does anyway.

“Listen here, motherfucker,” Jughead says, getting up so quickly the barstool tips over, his finger as close to his friend’s face as it could be with the bar in between them. “You know damn well why I need help.”

“From where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’re doing much of anything but letting your family down.” There’s a smug look on Sweet Pea’s face that Jughead wants to punch clean off, but he doesn’t. He has that much self-control left, at least. 

Instead, he storms out of the bar and heads back to the trailer park. He bursts through the door to his empty trailer and throws his keys across the room, where they land on the corner chair that he never really liked but Betty did. He starts ripping couch cushions off the furniture and tipping over tables in frustration.

He stalks into the kitchen and pulls down boxes from the cupboard frantically. He knows he’s got something to drink around here somewhere. He knows he didn’t get rid of  _ all _ of the alcohol in the trailer. A box of pancake mix hits the floor and powder explodes all over the place and he knows if Betty was with him, she’d be searching for the broom and dustpan to clean it immediately. He just leaves it dusting the floor as he tears through more cabinets. An old ceramic coffee mug teeters at the edge of the counter until a falling packet of PastryPops sends it careening to the floor, shattering amongst the breakfast powder. 

After nearly everything is on the floor or countertop, he finds a half-full bottle of vodka that he knows isn’t his. He twists the cap off and holds it to his mouth, but he doesn’t drink it. He’s pissed at Sweet Pea, but his friend’s face as he refused to let Jughead drink comes to mind in his hesitation. He can feel tears welling behind his eyes and he slams the bottle down on the counter.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and calls the only person who could help him in this moment, trying his hardest not to cry.

“I fucked everything up and I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m so sorry. Please, I need your help,” he says as his tears finally tumble down his cheeks. 

\--

Betty lays on the bed, feeling restless. It's been two days since she and Jughead got back from Seaside, two days since she had last seen or heard from him. 

She’s cleaned the apartment twice since, his silent treatment throwing her into a weird mood only vacuuming, dusting and scrubbing could distract from. The place has probably never been so pristine before, leaving her with nothing left to do except overthink. 

She wishes she hadn't let his outburst affect her so quickly and thoroughly. Instead of gaping in silence while he went for the jugular, she should have told him his head was running wild again, that all of his insecurities are in his mind. 

Now he’s God knows where and she’s here, hoping he’ll pick up the damn phone or just show up to talk. She knows that going after him won't be much help. Back in the day, he would often disappear to set his head straight. 

Betty stares at the ceiling as she thinks back on the first time he dropped off the grid. He had called her in the middle of the night after being absent from school the entire day. 

_ "Betts? I… I'm sorry for calling, but I don't know what else to do. I need your help." _

_ She didn't think twice before putting on some jeans and a hoodie and ducking out the window to head to the Southside.  _

_ At the trailer, she found Jughead sting on the floor with his father passed out on the couch in front of him.  _

_ "Jug? What happened?" When he looked at her she saw how red his eyes were wet, trails of tears still evident on his cheeks.  _

_ "My dad was gone for four days, Betty. He’s never been gone for so long, so I skipped school to go look for him. I went everywhere. When I came home from Greendale, I found him passed out on the floor. As it turns out, he and some Serpents went partying in Centerville. I tried to carry him to the bedroom, but he's too heavy. I'm sorry I made you come over here so late, but I didn't know who else to call.” _

_ He was only fifteen then. Betty had helped him take FP to his room, and after they cleaned up the trailer a little, Jughead walked her home. There, he said he needed some time to stay home, with his dad and asked her to keep his secret and tell their teachers he had the flu or something, knowing how bad it would be if anyone found out what was really going on. He didn't have to ask her twice. She lied for him, even collecting his homework assignments despite the fact that he hadn’t asked her to. Jughead had been gone for two days, and after disappearing completely, he'd come back and they didn't talk about it again for a long time.  _

\--

She knows he has his own way of processing his emotions, but that doesn’t mean she agrees with it. As far as she’s concerned, the best thing they can do is sit down and talk. But until he actually resurfaces, she;s stuck playing the waiting game. 

Betty knows they can work through his self-doubts about being a parent. After all, she has them, too. It’s something they should work on together. She also knows they can navigate whatever shift occurred in their relationship after their night together, because she doesn’t believe he meant what he said about not feeling the same as she did. Jughead has a gift for lashing out verbally whenever he’s hurt, and even if his words left her stupefied back at the motel, he can’t lie to her. She saw it in the way he looked at her while their bodies were one and after, in the way he had held her to his chest, fingers caressing her back as they went to sleep. He did feel the same way she did. 

What worries her most are the things he said about being an alcoholic father. She saw the way he drank when they had first talked, and thinking back, he had sounded drunk over the phone when she called him. Betty sits up and grabs her phone. It's a little over four in the afternoon, which means the bar downstairs isn't busy.

She finds Sweet Pea leaning over the countertop checking something on his phone. He looks up at the sound of the stairs creaking under her feet. She sits on a stool and offers him a small smile. 

"Can I have a coke?" 

He nods, setting the usual glass with ice and lemon in front of her a moment later. She thanks him but doesn’t say more, taking her time as she tried to decide how best to pose her question. 

"What do you need, Princess?" Betty looks up at him, eyebrows jumping slightly in surprise. "I'm good at reading people. It comes with my line of work." 

"I want to ask you something, but I'm not sure of how to say it," she says honestly. 

Sweet Pea stares at her for a moment. “Just ask, and maybe I’ll answer.” He shrugs, drys his hands on a rag, and comes to stand right in front of her. 

“As I’m sure you noticed, Jughead and I got into a fight. He said something that got me wondering...” She chooses her next words carefully because she knows that no matter how nice Sweet Pea is, his loyalty belongs to Jughead. “He said he’s afraid of being an alcoholic father like FP was. And I just… I had no idea what to tell him, because I don’t know what he meant.” 

He visibly tenses up, running a hand over his face while taking a deep breath. 

“I really shouldn’t be talking about this with you of all people, but I think it’s something you need to know.” He pauses, mindlessly using the rag that had been on his shoulder to clean the countertop, even though it’s already spotless. The action makes her realize that this isn’t an easy topic for him. 

“It goes back to when you left,” he says. “With everything that happened, Jughead fell into this abyss and he didn’t know how to get himself out, so he turned to the bottle just like FP did. I guess it was a way to dull the pain of losing you and the kid. It sounds way worse than it actually was. He never drove drunk or anything like that. He still did what he had to do around here and at school, but he was drinking  _ everyday _ . Toni and I tried to have a chat with him about it, but being as stubborn as he is, it didn’t do much.” 

He looks away from her, eyes undoubtedly stuck on past moments she doesn’t know much about. Jughead had mentioned to her how hard losing her and their daughter almost all at once had been to him, but she had no idea it had been  _ that  _ hard. No wonder everyone pretty much hated her when she returned.

“I never meant to hurt him like that, Sweet Pea. It was another byproduct of my mother’s lies, and I was just so angry at the thought that the Serpents had been more important to him than the birth of his child that I just… I didn’t even want to hear his voice. I had to get out of Riverdale and I trusted that my mother would tell him what happened and why I left. I never had a reason to believe she wouldn’t.” 

When she looks up from her hands to his face, she’s surprised to see that he doesn’t seem angry or resentful of her at all. Instead, his face is nothing but understanding and sympathetic. 

“I know you didn’t. Neither of you asked to be put in such a shitty situation, and I guess you two tried your best to survive it. As for Jughead’s… issue, I can tell you he seems better. This is the first time in five years that I’ve seen him sober longer than a few hours.” He pauses and she can’t help but stare at him surprised. “That should tell you all you need to know, princess.”

\--

Jughead is pacing around the cramped quarters of the trailer when there’s a knock at the door. He stops and stares at it for a minute before finally going over to fling it open. The second he does he wants to cry all over again. He backs away silently and let’s his guest pass by him.

FP Jones pulls his son into a tight hug. Jughead wraps his arms around his father for the first time in a long time, grabs hold of the familiar flannel, and breaks down. He tries to speak, but everything comes out as a sob. Eventually, he calms down and FP pulls away to look at him. Jughead isn’t sure what his father is looking for, but he can see his emotions morph from frustration to concern.

“First things first, boy,” FP tells him as he heads to the sink and dumps the contents of the vodka bottle down the drain. “You wanna tell me what this is all about?”

“I fucked everything up and she’ll probably never forgive me, not that I deserve her anyway. And I have no idea what I’m doing or even what I want to do with my life.” He runs his fingers through his hair and pulls at the ends.

“Fucked what up? And who are you talking about? You’ve gotta give me a little more than that, son.”

Jughead realizes that FP really has no idea what’s happened in the last week, but he can’t seem to get his mind to focus on anything for longer than a second or two, so everything comes out frantic and hurried and slightly incoherent. 

“We went looking for her, and I thought I was fine and could handle the feelings, but I can’t because there are just too many of them.” He takes a deep breath and he wants to chase that vodka down the drain. He’d spent so long keeping himself numb that feeling again is overwhelming. 

“We? Who were you looking for?” Jughead can see the trepidation on FP’s face and he knows he needs to be blunt.

“The only ‘we’ that has ever mattered. Betty and I.” His father’s face immediately hardens at the mention of Betty’s name. 

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard. I could have sworn you just said Betty. As in Betty Cooper, the girl who left and ruined your life?” The harsh reality of his father’s reaction doesn’t faze him because as soon as he explains it, FP will understand. 

“I did. We went loo — ” FP cuts him off.

“Have you lost your damn mind, boy? Are you really chasing the Cooper girl  _ again _ ? Do I really need to remind you how she left you high and dry, mourning a child she never bothered to tell you was going to be born without as much as a text message? If not for her sister, you would have never even know what happened!” 

Jughead stares at his father. He almost wants to laugh, but he fights the urge and rolls his eyes instead. 

“Are you done?” Jughead asks. His father crosses his arms over his chest, face still hard, and Jughead knows FP is still mad on his behalf. “We went looking,” he says. He can see his father start to open his mouth to interrupt him again, but Jughead puts his hand up to silence him. “No. Let me finish before you go off on another tirade about how Betty is the worst person to ever walk the streets of Riverdale, because you’re about to change your mind.”

FP sits on the couch and Jughead takes a seat on the floor in front of him for maximum effect. He tells him everything he knows thus far about Betty and Alice and their daughter and the nuns. He tells him about Termite and Jinx and how they’re holding out hope, but he went and fucked it up by implying that Betty didn’t mean anything to him.

“I fucked up. And I don’t know how to fix it.” By the time he finishes, the tears are falling again. 

FP runs his hand over his face and his jaw drops. "Are you saying your kid is still alive?" 

Jughead feels for his father at that moment, having had a similar reaction when Betty told him about Mattie. "Yeah, Dad. I’m saying  _ she _ is still alive.” He puts emphasis on ‘she’ for FP’s benefit. “Her name is Matilda. That’s all we know, and we only know that because of some unsavory circumstances involving me, Toni, Alice and an oxygen tank.”

“What a conniving bitch,” FP nearly growls. “How could she do that to her own daughter? To you? To a newborn baby!” Jughead sees FP’s anger switch from Betty to the older Cooper woman and he knows exactly how his father feels.

“If it makes you feel any better, she’s dying and that’s the only reason we know.” Jughead shrugs, trying his best to make light of his father’s anger and frustration. And his own. He sees the pointed look his father gives him and he switches gears, sighing in defeat. “I need your help, Dad. Please?”

“What can I do? I’ll punch Alice in the throat if I have to.” 

“No, Dad, nothing like that. Well… maybe,” he jokingly contemplates. “First, I think I need help staying sober. I was fine for a while because I was distracted, but it  _ sucks _ . Feeling things this intensely is hard. But the stakes are too high now. I need to learn how to cope without drinking.”

“You ain’t kiddin’. Well, you’re already on your way. You called me instead of cracking that bottle open. The next time you feel like you need to take a drink, you call me. Call it an unofficial sponsorship.”

“I know we haven’t exactly been close over the years. Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“You are my son, and I’ve been sober for eight years now. I think I can handle it.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Jughead smiles a real, genuine smile for the first time since his fight with Betty. Suddenly the air around him is breathable again.

“When was the last time you cooked for yourself?”

Jughead sits and thinks about it. He honestly can’t remember the last time he actually cooked something that didn’t require a microwave or toaster. His silence must give him away because FP laughs.

“That long, huh? Well, how about you clean this disaster up while I run to get some actual groceries, and we start there? A family can’t live on PastryPops and TV dinners alone, trust me.”

\--

After her talk with Sweet Pea, Betty goes back upstairs only to put on some shoes and grab her cellphone. She leaves using the back stairs, walking fast to Sunnyside Trailer Park. She needs  — more than anything  — to find Jughead.

She barely notices the distance, which is certainly further than she’s used to traveling without a car. The only thing on her mind is what she'll say once she’s face to face with Jughead again. He’s in a bad place and she knows that if she says the wrong thing, he’ll most likely shut her out again. 

Betty is so distracted she barely registers someone walking in her direction until she bumps straight into them. 

"I'm so sor — " She freezes mid-sentence when she realizes the person she just ran into is FP Jones. 

"Betty Cooper," he says, looking her up and down. “What are you doing here?” His tone immediately makes her uncomfortable as it’s clear that he isn’t pleased by her presence.

“FP,” she begins, a bit out of breath from walking too far too fast. “I… I’m here to see Jughead.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says, setting an armful of grocery bags on the ground. “Jughead isn’t up for visitors.” She doesn’t know what to make of his words or his reaction to her. He’s icy, but no more than she remembers him being. How much did Jughead tell him about why she’s here? 

Regardless of whether or not FP hates her for breaking his son’s heart , she persists. She really needs to see Jughead, and FP won’t be the one to stop her. 

“This is important,” she says with as much politeness as she can muster. She takes a step forward, but FP raises his hand to stop her.

“I’m sure it is, but he really isn’t up for it. You should go.” With that, he grabs the grocery bags from the ground and walks away, leaving her standing in the street. 

Betty knows she should leave. It would be the wise thing to do  — to go back to the Wyrm and stay there until Jughead comes around again. All in due time. However, that’s not the kind of person she is. Instead, she walks until she sees the fence that marks the edge of the trailer park. Betty is surprised to see the old playground, complete with a slide and a swingset, still standing after all these years. She assumes it’s because of all the work the Serpents did around the Southside.

It's a place with many memories. One of the first times Betty found her way here had been during her sophomore year. She came home with a B+ on a math quiz and her mother had been particularly upset. 

_ "Elizabeth, this cannot keep happening! You need to focus. This year, as every year in high school, is critical for college. Failure like this is unexceptable," her mother yelled, beside herself with anger. _

_ "Mom, it's a B+, not an F!"  _

_ "You need A's to get into Ivy Leagues, Elizabeth. Do you think Harvard will accept a B+? Certainly not.” Alice’s hands are poised at her hips and she’s wearing a stern look that Betty knows well. “You used to be so bright. So smart. So  _ perfect _. A shining star. You just had to go and get involved with that lowlife Southside boyfriend of yours. He ruined you, just like I told you he would. But you are so blinded by the Jones charm that you can't see it."  _

_ Leave it to Alice Cooper to press hard where it hurts the most. She knew exactly how to choose her words to hurt Betty most. Without another word, Betty left the house and headed straight to the Southside.  _

_ She knocked and knocked on the trailer door, but Jughead wasn't home. She waited for him sitting on the rusty swing set, turning her mother’s words over and over in her mind.  _

_ When Jughead found her not long after, she fell into his open arms. "Hey, Betts. What's wrong?" _

_ "It's my mother, Jug. Again. I don't know what to do. She just cruel. I got a B+ on a math test and she said it means I’m ‘ruined.’. Ruined, Jug. Can you believe that? I mean, I get why she’s like this. I understand that she wants what she thinks is best for me. I know how important college is, but I still want to enjoy high school. I'm only sixteen. I have the right to watch shitty movies and go bowling with you and enjoy being young. I don’t want to think about college and the future all the time. I'm not wrong in wanting that, am I?" _

_ “No, Betts. You’re not wrong. Come on. How about we get out of here? We can go to Pop’s, have a milkshake and then maybe we can come back here to watch a shitty movie of your choosing.” His words are a balm on her tired mind.  _

_ “I love you, Juggie.” _

_ Jughead presses a gentle kiss on her lips. “I love you too, Betts. And I’ll always be here for you.”  _

His promise rings in her ears, the years between them flashing in front of her eyes as she wonders what will happen now. With them, with Mattie, with their lives. Is it possible that all they lost can still be repaired?

Jughead is lying down on the couch when he hears the door open and the rustling of grocery bags. He hops up to help FP unload the food and he can’t remember the last time there was anything more than a few items in his cabinet, let alone fresh produce and a full gallon of milk.

He looks to FP, who has a scowl on his face. 

“Thanks for your help, Dad.” FP doesn’t respond, he just continues to unpack the groceries and put them away in their proper home. 

“Dad?”

“Huh?” FP nearly grunts, and Jughead can see he’s distracted.

“If this is too much for you, I understand,” Jughead says.

“No, boy. If you need me, this is where I’ll be. I know I haven’t been in the past and that’s probably part of the reason you’re in this mess to begin with, but I’m here now.” FP claps his son on the shoulder and smiles at him, but keeps peeking out the window. It's starting to be unsettling. 

“Are you waiting for someone?” Jughead asks.

“No, but someone is waiting for you,” FP says. “I ran into your girl on the way back from the store.”

_ Your girl _ , he thinks, and scoffs. She wasn’t his anything, not anymore. He’d ruined that  —  again.

“Of course you did,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. “What did she want?”

“To talk to you. She said it was important, but I didn’t ask. Just said that you weren’t up for it. But now I’m thinking you should talk to her. I have a feeling she won’t be going anywhere.”

“If she’s not, I’m not. I can stay holed up in here longer than she’ll stay out there.”

FP looked out the window again and this time, Jughead follows his eyes to the old playground. To Betty sitting on the swing set. Her feet are kicking at the mulch beneath them and it looks like she’s talking to herself, but moreover, she looks  _ sad. _

“Listen, boy. I don’t like what she did. But to go through what she did, losing the baby and part of herself and her entire life here…” FP trails off. “She needs you. Just like you need her.” 

“Sound advice coming from the man who spent his entire life running away from everything. Who pushes everyone away. I’ll keep that in mind.” Jughead rolls his eyes and turns away from the window. “Sorry.”

He finishes putting away the groceries and turns back to his father expectantly. 

“Right. Let’s start with something easy. Breakfast is pretty hard to mess up.” Jughead is thankful that his father took his cue and dropped the Betty talk, at least for now.

They dice tomatoes and peppers and whisk them together with eggs and cheese to make an omelette. As he is putting the second batch in the pan, he looks out the window to see Betty still sitting on the swing, her hands gripping the old chain. He sighs.

He knows he is an idiot. He  _ knows  _ it, but he doesn’t want to face it. He turns back to the pan and folds the eggs just as FP had instructed him to and slides the omelette onto a second plate. They sit at the old kitchen table and FP takes the first bite.

“Not bad, kid.”

The rest of their meal is silent and Jughead takes his sweet time eating. He forces himself to, because the longer it takes him to eat, the longer he can avoid Betty. When he’s done, he wishes he wasn’t. He gets up with his plate and walks to the sink, stopping to look out the window again.

Her jacket is off her shoulders and acting as a cushion between herself and the hard rubber of the swing. It seems like his plan to wait her out isn’t going to work. She’s just as determined as ever.

He washes and dries the dishes and FP puts them away. The silence stretches on and becomes deafening.

“Do you really think she needs me?” Jughead asks. His voice has never sounded so small.

“Yeah, Jug. I think she really does.”

He stalls the best he can before FP all but throws him out the front door to confront his life. He glares back at the door and FP smiles. Jughead makes his way toward the playground slowly, talking himself in and out of the conversation he knows deep down is necessary to move on.

She doesn’t notice him approaching right away. He pauses for a second to watch her kick her legs lamely, swinging the tiniest bit. He takes one more deep breath before he starts moving toward her again. Everything sounds louder to him in the still of the early evening, and it must to her, too, because she looks up and her eyes widen before he can say a word.

His mind is telling him to run as far away from her as he can, but his heart wants him to run to her, scoop her up and not let her go. His instinct to flee the problems at hand is too strong. He turns to leave, but the sadness in her voice stops him.

“Please don’t run away again, Juggie.”

He heaves a heavy sigh. As he doesn’t want to, he forces himself to stop walking away. He slowly makes his way toward the swing set, plops himself next to her and begins to swing silently. Betty, on the other hand, has stopped swinging entirely and has turned to face him. He can feel her eyes boring holes into his cheek as her gaze follows the path he’s on.

He doesn’t think she’ll ever understand. She’ll never understand that even though he’s been to hell and back again, the prospect of being a father scares him so deeply that he doesn’t know how to cope. The fear of being just like his father was when he was Mattie’s age is enough to paralyze him. Logically, he knows this isn’t true. He knows they aren’t their parents; he was the one who first told  _ her _ that when they were young. 

He  _ knows _ , but the fear is still debilitating. And it’s only leading him to become the very type of person he’s trying so desperately to avoid turning into. He knows running away from Betty won’t fix things. It won’t make her want to stay if they do find and get to keep their daughter. He  _ knows  _ these things, but fear is a funny thing  —  it defies logic and understanding.

“Please talk to me?” Betty pleads. He can hear the pain and sadness that he caused and he hates himself for it.

“I didn’t mean it,” Jughead whispers. She doesn’t respond, but he stops swinging and looks to his left. “I didn’t mean it when I said it meant nothing.”

“I know you didn’t  — ”

“It meant everything,” he clarifies, even though she already knows.

“What happened, Jug? I talked to Sweet Pea and he gave me a glimpse into what it was like when I was gone, but I want to know from you.”

It’s a loaded question. What hadn’t happened to him during the five years of her absence? He was beaten nearly to death, kidnapped and threatened. He was lonely and grieving, lost in his own warped sense of what he wanted from his new world without Betty Cooper  —  the darkest world he’d ever lived in. His source of light was ripped from him and he didn’t know how to cope. He started drinking to quiet the voices, the nagging in the back of his head that told him he’d never be enough anyway, but eventually those voices changed to tell him he was just like everything he hated.

He tells her all of this. He tells her how all he wanted was to do good in the world and make his way out, to make his way back to her, how he always wanted them to find each other again, but his inner pessimist convinced him he wasn’t worth it.

“I convinced myself that you would never come back because you'd realize you deserved so much more than this small-town life with a guy like me.”

Betty stares at him with her big green eyes.

"Oh, Jug. You have no idea how much I wished we could have had a life together here. You're everything I wanted."

“Wanted,” he repeats. “Past-tense.” He knows she is destined for more than small-town life, even if she didn’t think so when they were young. She made a name for herself in California. She was happy there. The implication of a life with him being what she wanted  — not what she wants  — hurts him deeply, but he tries not to let it show.

"Just because I used past-tense to talk about the past, doesn't mean I'm talking about now, Jughead," she says in a correcting tone, proving that she can still read him as well as she always did. "Now is different. The past is history. Some painful history we both wish we could change, but still, history. What we  _ do  _ have is what’s here and now and the chance to make it into something even better in the future."

“Why would you ever want to come back here? You know damn well you deserve better than all of this.” He gestures around them. He knows she’s right, again. “You can’t possibly want this life again, not when you were able to escape like we always wanted.”

"Stop telling me what I want and what I should do, Jughead! I’m here. I’m trying. And all you seem to say is that I don’t belong here or that I don’t want to be here. How do you know what I want? Because it sounds an awful lot like its what  _ you  _ want. But you won’t let me in long enough to find out what that is, so all I know is what you’ve told me when you were angry. And based on that, you’re the one that doesn’t want me.”

Jughead can hear how upset she is while he stares at the wood chips by his feet. He never meant to speak for her, or to make her think he didn’t want her here. It’s the last thing he wants. He’s always wanted her to stay. He’s nearly certain he always will.

“C’mon, Betts,” he says, exhaling. “Can you really tell me you’d be happy moving back here when you finally escaped?”

"Once upon a time, I believed I could be happy anywhere as long as you were with me. I was ready to leave Riverdale and never look back just as much as I was ready to stay and build a life here. I still believe that hasn't changed. We can make this work."

“Do you even  _ want _ to? What about your job and your friends and your entire life away from here? You’d give all of that up just to live in a rusted trailer?” He can feel himself getting angry, and he isn’t entirely sure why. It isn’t his choice to make.

“I can get a new job. I have friends here.  _ You’re _ here,” Betty explains. She sounds exasperated. “You don’t seem to be getting the idea that all I’ve ever wanted was a life with  _ you _ . I don’t care where we are. Besides, I left one life behind years ago without looking back for all the wrong reasons. Don't you think I would do it again for the right ones?"

He stays quiet as he contemplates her side of the story for what might be the first time. She had already left everything she knew once before, so what would stop her from leaving behind that new life in exchange for the one she could have had, the one that included him and Mattie and a real family. He can hear her next to him, kicking the dirt beneath her feet, waiting for him to respond. He just doesn’t know what she wants to hear. And he’s afraid to say what he really wants. He’s afraid to put it out in the universe for fear of disappointment… again. His life was full of it growing up. Now that he’s in control of his life, he’s avoiding disappointment like the plague.

"Jughead?" she asks quietly, like she's afraid to scare him off.

He doesn’t speak yet, but he hums in response so she knows he’s present and ready to listen to whatever she has to say next. He’s just not ready to face his own demons head on yet, even if he knows he has to.

“Please, Jug,” she says, and it rips his heart nearly in two to hear her sound so desperate.

“I don’t know what you want to hear,” he finally says, defeat loud and clear in his voice. He gets up from the damned swing and starts pacing in front of her. He can’t do it. He wants nothing more than to run away from her and from all of this. He turns around, and all it takes is one look at the trailer for him to feel his legs itching to pick up speed and go back inside.

“I want you to tell me the truth, Jughead." 

_ The truth? What is the truth? _ he thinks, shaking his head as he runs his hands through his hair several times, frustrated. Again he looks at the trailer, questioning if coming outside had really been a good idea. 

"Just talk to me. Be honest. Do you want me to go?" 

Her words pierce through him, and he knows she finally has him trapped. He isn’t going anywhere. And he doesn’t want her to, either. He wants her right where she is, close to him, working by his side like they used to before everything was flipped on its side and ruined by circumstance and terrible parents. 

“I’ve always wanted you here. Even if I was trying to convince myself otherwise. I just don’t want to hold you back,” he finally says. “I never wanted this life, but after you left it felt like there was nothing left. I drank so it wouldn’t hurt so bad that I was going home alone."

\--

It pains her to hear him say those words. For five years he had tried to fill the hole that losing her had left in his heart with drink after drink, which led him into a downward spiral that was bound to be his ruin sooner or later. 

Betty didn't miss the way he looked away from her face as he spoke, avoiding her eyes out of fear or shame of what she would say, just like he did when they were younger after telling her something about his father, or about the Serpents. 

"Jughead. Look at me." 

He turns to her slowly, raising his eyes from the wood chips beneath his feet. His face is hardened, serious and blank, despite the whirlwind of emotions that must be swirling through him. 

"I know you never wanted this,” she says. “I know you. I know you're hurting. And I know you’re probably confused and in pain, but you need to know that you don’t need to run anymore. We can face this together.”

“How the hell are we supposed to face this together when I can barely face myself on a daily basis?” His tone is harsh, but she can hear the truth between the lines. He’s trying so hard to be tough, either for her benefit or his own or for the both of them. She wonders if he realizes he doesn’t have to be strong all the time. She wants to help him when he can’t help himself.

"I read somewhere that even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise." 

He crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow at her. “Why are you paraphrasing Victor Hugo at me?”

"Because right now, you're going through a dark moment in your life. And although it doesn't seem like it, the sun will rise again. You can beat this. It will get better." His face remains impassive. "Jughead, most people are stronger than they know. They just forget to believe in themselves sometimes. Let me help you remember." 

She can see the gears shifting in his head, can see the glimmer of something more than the neutral expression that’s been on his face since he turned back around. She decides not to give him time to think or doubt. She just keeps talking, hoping that something will pierce through his stubbornness and his proverbial darkness.

"Look, we can start again. I know it won't be easy, our lives never were, but we've spent too long being tied up by the past. We have to move on." She gets up and stands directly in front of him. "I'm on this ride, no matter where it'll take us. I'll be by your side, shoulder to shoulder. All you have to do it let me." 

His face gradually softens up. "Betts, I  — " 

He doesn’t finish his sentence, Instead, a sob rips out of his chest and tears stream down his face. She puts her arms around him immediately, pulling him to a hug. She can feel much he's shaking as the sobs wrack through him.

"It's okay, Jug," she whispers. 

He shakes his head, wordlessly trying to tell her “no” and she tightens her grip on him in response. She knows he’s never been one to cry or show his cards, but she’s thankful that he’s letting himself feel something for once. She remembers what he said earlier about not being able to afford therapy and she realizes this is probably the first time he’s been allowed to let himself really cry.

"It's okay," she says louder this time. "I got you. I got you, Juggie." 

By the time he seems to have lost his strength, they end up sitting on the gravel, her arms never breaking their vice-like grip around his shoulders. 

"It's going to be alright," she says, running a hand over his back. "We're going to get through this. I promise. I’m not going anywhere." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do we feel? Let us know!


	9. Welcome aboard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy *laughs nervously and taps microphone* anyone still here?
> 
> okay. we know it's been a minute (a very looooong minute) since we've posted. but all that matters is that we have a new one now, right? But before we dive in, Mars & I need to thank you all from the bottom of our hearts for nominating and voting this labor of love as (tied) Best Post High School fic in the 6th BFFAs! We are honestly astonished! Thank you all so much for reading, commenting, reblogging, kudos'ing, recommending and whatever else you lovelies have done for us. _Thank you._
> 
> Also, full disclosure: we do not know when the next chapter will be done and posted. if that dissuades you from sticking around, that's cool. we understand. 
> 
> BUT that being said... we hope you enjoy this chapter and that it was worth the wait.
> 
> love, air kisses, and virtual hugs to you all.  
> -Cyd & Mars

The lasagna is in the oven!” Jughead announces, coming from the kitchen to sit by Betty’s side on the couch. “Now we cross our fingers."

Betty laughs, shaking her head. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Jug,” she reassures him softly. Ever since their chat on the playground, some things have already changed. It’s just the beginning, but he’s taking small steps toward getting better and she couldn’t be more proud of him. 

“I burned the last one to a crisp, remember?”

She laughs again, thinking of yesterday’s lunch. She’d arrived at his trailer to find it filled with smoke, and it ended with a trip to Pop’s. 

Betty leans against his shoulder and takes his hand between hers. “This oven is better than the one at the trailer and there’s two people paying attention now.”

He snuggles against her and presses a small kiss to the top of her head. “I wish I could stay the whole night here, with you," she says as he wraps his arms around her.

Veronica had arranged another one of their traditional girls nights, insisting there was something important she had to show Betty. 

“Trust me, I’ve seen Veronica pissed before, and I wouldn’t want her to be pissed with me. She’s scary. And besides,” he moves to look at her, “I’ll be all yours tomorrow.” His lips press against hers and a shiver runs down her spine at the implication.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“So, did you find something?” he asks, eyeing her laptop on the table in front of them. She had been researching Sister Woodhouse. 

“Nothing. Just mentions of her in old newspapers from when the Sisters were still up and running, and a few articles about their shut down.” She rubs her eyes and takes a deep breath. “We still need to think about what we’ll do once we find her. She met me before, when I stayed there after giving birth to Mattie. I have no doubt she would recognize me.” 

“Well, we can send Jinx again to scope it out for us. He did well last time. As for her recognizing you, I have an idea, but I’m not sure how comfortable you'll be with it.”

Betty stares at him for a second. "What's on your mind?" 

"Woodhouse will be expecting a couple, right? But she has no idea of what we look like, other than maybe some prominent physical characteristics, like your blonde hair, for example. What if we asked someone to come in your place? She won't even dream about you being involved." He pauses and looks right at her. "I know this is something we're doing together, but we have no idea what she would do if she finds out you're looking for Mattie."

Betty knows he's right. By doing Alice Cooper’s bidding for money and stealing a child, Sister Woodhouse implicated herself in yet another crime. No one could predict what she would do to avoid being caught again. 

"Do you have someone in mind?" 

He nods. "I do. You're going to spend the night with her." Betty’s eyes widen as she realizes his plan. "I figured she would be perfect for the part, with all of her... charm."

"That's a great idea, Jug!" 

"How about you invite her to have a drink with us tomorrow when she comes to drop you off? We can talk to her then."

Betty looks at him suspiciously. _A drink with us_. “But—”

“A drink could be coffee, Betts. Relax. I’ll be fine. Do you think she’d help us out?”

“Considering how much she _already_ wants to spoil this child, I have no doubt that she’d love to help us scheme.”

She sees his face light up in a way it only does when they talk about Matilda, and she knows all of this will be worth it when they find their daughter. 

“So it’s settled. We’ll talk to Veronica tomorrow, and hopefully we’ll get to Woodhouse soon.” 

They’ve barely finished dinner when Veronica calls to let Betty know that she’s outside. Betty grabs the small backpack she'd packed earlier and Jughead walks her downstairs. He waves to Veronica at the door before looking back at Betty. 

"I hope you girls have a great night, Betts." 

"Thank you, Juggie." He lowers his head, planting a chaste kiss on her lips. 

"See you tomorrow." 

\--

At the Pembrooke, Veronica offers Betty dessert knowing she already had dinner and lets her know there's ice cream in the freezer. 

"Which one do you want?" Betty shouts from the kitchen, eyeing the different flavors in front of her. "V?" she calls out a little louder. When Veronica doesn't answer, Betty walks back to the living room. Veronica has her phone in her hands and she seems completely stuck on the small screen, apparently texting. "V?"

"Oh!" Veronica exclaims. "Yes. Sorry. I got distracted. Work. What did you say?"

"I asked which ice cream you wanted." Veronica puts down her phone and gets up from the couch. 

"Belgian chocolate, please." 

Betty smiles. "Coming right up." 

They get ready for bed before eating, and as they sit on Veronica’s bed in pajamas with two pints of ice cream between them, Betty almost feels like they’re in high school all over again. 

"So, what is it that you wanted to tell me?" Betty asks.

"Yes! Right." Veronica pauses to think. Betty studies her friend's face in confusion because Veronica is not usually one for thinking before talking. "Okay, so I… There’s someone I’ve been seeing."

“Is that all?” Betty chuckles. “Veronica, you are no stranger to romance. Why is this such a big deal?”

“That’s the thing, I kind of am. I’ve had nothing more than a string of one-night stands in recent history, so the fact that there are actual _feelings_ involved makes me feel like we’re sixteen again.” Betty watches as Veronica adjusts herself and places her pint of ice cream on the nightstand at her side. 

Betty follows suit and sets down her pint. “Who is this guy that’s got you so flustered? You know I’ll support you… as long as it isn’t that piece of shit you were telling me about last girls’ night. Cause fuck that guy.”

“No. Ew. Absolutely not. That was over before it even started.” Veronica takes a deep breath and and lowers herself into the bed, nearly covering her face. The words she says next are muffled; Betty can barely hear them.

“Veronica, just tell me. It can’t be crazier than my current situation,” she says.

“It’s Reggie,” Veronica finally admits.

"Reggie? As in Reggie Mantle?" Betty can't help but be surprised. 

"Do you know any other Reggie?" Veronica asks sarcastically. Betty just shrugs. Her surprise is certainly justifiable. Veronica had a thing with Reggie back in junior year of high school, but it had ended when his family left town with the rest who thought the small town wasn’t as safe as it used to be. 

"How did that happen? I mean, how did you two meet up after all this time?"

“Chicago happened. I ran into him working on a case. It was surreal, like a little piece of home right there waiting for me. I had no idea he was there. He asked me out for a drink and we’ve been talking ever since.”

"But you've been doing more than just talking, right? Which is why you have your panties in a twist?" The joke earns her a pillow to the face. 

“Shut up! I did not tell you this for you to mock me!”

"I'm not mocking you," Betty replies. "Or maybe I am, but I have that right as your best friend. And I know you just called me here because you've been dying to tell someone about him, so spill." As always, she knows Veronica way too well.

“I didn’t want to jinx it. It's been going on for a few months now, and I just can’t shake these feelings.”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to. Maybe it wasn’t the right time for you guys in high school, but maybe now it is.” Betty can’t help but play the hopeless romantic, especially when it comes to her best friend. She just wants Veronica to be happy. 

"That's just it. I don't know. It's complicated." 

"No. You have feelings for someone you’ve known your entire life. That isn’t complicated. What’s complicated is this,” she says, gesturing to herself dramatically. “Having your entire life flipped on its head is complicated. This is easy; you just don’t want to admit it.”

Veronica doesn't say anything for a while. 

"I've never had what you have with Jughead, B. The kind of love that moves mountains and freezes hell. Between Archie, Reggie, Sweet Pea and all my other flings, that's all they were. Flings. Or teenage love built strictly by hormones. A few days before I came back here, I told Reggie we needed to take a breather because I had things to do, but the truth is that I needed space to figure out what I want."

“V, Don’t compare yourself to me and Jug. We are most certainly not the rule when it comes to love. I think you’re afraid to let yourself feel something serious. You’re afraid of getting hurt because you watched your parents destroy each other. I think that’s why you and Archie broke up and why nothing ever sticks — because you’re afraid of what will happen if it does.”

"You're not the rule, but you guys are what most of us dreamt about." 

“Did you forget about the fighting and the five year break up? Hell, I don’t even really know where we stand now! How is that any kind of goal?” 

"Please, Betty. How many people find each other again after all that time? I've said it before, when you two had just started dating. You are each other's soulmates. Even if it wasn't because of Mattie, I had no doubt that you two would find your way back to one another." 

Veronica's words stop Betty short. Soulmates? Are those even real? The notion of everlasting love for someone who inspires you, who knows you better than yourself, someone who would remain in your heart forever, no matter what? Could it be that Jughead and her were destined to be together? Was it possible that they would have always found a way back to each other?

"Betty?" Veronica's voice brings her back from her reverie. 

"Hmm? What did you say?"

"I said since you mentioned Mattie, I remembered I have something to show you." Betty looks to her best friend and cocks her head to the side. "Come on. It's in the guest room." 

Betty trails after her friend, and her thoughts only stop racing when Veronica opens the door and she sees something she never thought she would see again.

"V?" She asks, stunned nearly speechless. "Is this—"

"Your old doll-house? Yes it is. Do you like it? Do you think Mattie will?" 

Betty walks in the room and completely ignores Veronica’s questions as she touches the relic from her childhood. 

"V, how did you do this?" 

"I got it from Polly, actually. She Marie Kondo-ed your old house a few years ago for some garage sale to raise money for that looney-bin she belongs to, and this was there. Apparently it didn’t have much market value, so I got it for free before she could get rid of it.” Veronica comes to stand at Betty’s side. "I always hoped to have the opportunity to give this back to you one day, and that maybe you'd pass it on to another kid you would have one day or keep it to yourself, but then you told me about Mattie and it was almost like destiny, like this was waiting for her." 

Betty can't stop the tears from falling. "V, this is perfect. I love it." She stutters, struggling to find the right words to say how much this means to her. 

"B, that smile on your face is all the thanks I need." They hug, and Betty thanks heaven, the universe or whatever it is that brought such an amazing person to her life. 

"V?" She asks as they're separate. "Would you come by the Wyrm tomorrow and have a drink with me and Jug? There’s something we want to talk to you about.” 

\--

Jughead knows that he’s late for drinks with the girls, but the run had taken a little longer than usual. He and Sweet Pea high-tailed it back to Riverdale, and by some miracle, are only a half-hour late.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says, rushing to the corner booth where he had instructed the girls to meet him. He slides into the booth next to Betty and kisses her temple. “Did I miss anything?”

Betty turns to look at him and he sees her eyes widen. “What happened to your face?” Betty lifts her hand to graze her thumb over a few scabbed abrasions and what’s turning into a killer black eye.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he lies. He’d gotten into it with one of the Ghoulies on their run, but he didn’t need Betty worrying about that. He wants her to focus her energy on finding Mattie, not on what he was doing to keep them safe.

Betty looks at him pointedly and raises an eyebrow. She definitely doesn’t believe him. He can’t blame her. He wouldn’t believe him, either. He places his hand on hers, brings her knuckles to his lips and places a gentle kiss to them.

“Just a scuffle. I’m fine,” he says, ignoring the killer headache he’s had for a few hours. 

“This is swoon-worthy and all, but I was asked here for a drink, which I do not have,” Veronica jests. “White wine spritzers, please and thank you, Mr. Jones.”

Jughead slides out of the booth and to the bar, peeking over his shoulder back at the girls. He sees Betty’s bright smile and it warms his heart. He pours two glasses of white wine and tops them with club before pouring himself a cup of black coffee. 

He notices that the smell of the alcohol isn’t bothering him like he thought that it might and he figures it’s a step in the right direction. He sets the glasses down in front of his company and slides back in next to Betty, closer this time than the last. 

They each take a sip of their beverages before Veronica places her hands flat on the table and leans in. “So, what is it that we need to discuss?”

Jughead watches as she leans back and perches her chin on her fist in anticipation. He pauses before looking at Betty. He is drawing out his silence on purpose. He’s always loved watching Veronica squirm. 

“How long before you think she’ll combust,” Jughead whisper-laughed into Betty’s ear. Betty’s giggle makes his terrible joke worth it and he smiles against her cheek.

“Okay, Veronica. Darling, V,” she says, practically stalling as she takes a deep breath. Jughead places a reassuring hand on her thigh. “We have something we need your help with. And you can say no, but—”

“If it is for that precious nugget of yours, count me in,” Veronica says without hesitation. Her loyalty not only to Betty, but now to him, is unwavering.

“We have another lead,” Jughead begins, “but she may recognize Betty.”

“We need you to dig out that blonde wig of yours and pretend to be me.” Betty pauses and starts to laugh. “Well, actually, you would need to pretend to be Mrs. Geneviese, the young, executive assistant who cannot have children.”

“We know its a lot to ask of you, Veronica, but you’d be helping us out a lot. We don’t trust anyone else to help us find our daughter.” 

Jughead squeezes at Betty’s thigh, more to ground himself than anything, but when her hand finds its way on top of his own, he lets out a breath as they wait for Veronica to respond. He is flooded with relief when she agrees to help.

“Oh, that wig was an abomination. I can definitely do better than that,” she says, her eyes finding their intertwined hands. Jughead sees a smile grace her lips. “But, as I said, I’m in. Whatever you guys need.”

“We don’t have a full plan just yet. We’re waiting for my scout to come back and update us with everything we need to know about Sister Woodhouse. So as of now, I guess you’re on standby. Hopefully we can have a plan in motion by the end of the week,” he says, just to be sure that she is okay with this gigantic favor they are asking for.

“So, I guess that means I need to get started finding something to match this gorgeous shade of blonde, then. Oh! And green contacts. Veronica Lodge does not half-ass a mission,” she states, getting up from the table.

She finishes her glass of wine and bid her comrades adieu, leaving Jughead and Betty alone in the corner booth. 

“Well, that went smoother than I thought it would.” Jughead sighs, leaning back into the cushion of the seat. He kisses her temple again and slides out of the booth, offering his hand to Betty. She takes it and doesn’t let go as they walk to the other side of the bar, up the stairs to the apartment. 

Jughead slips his jacket off and hangs it on the hook before unceremoniously throwing himself into bed. He hears the door close behind him and her shoes hitting the floor. His eyes are closed. He is so incredibly tired from the run. Even if it wasn’t as long as the last, this one came with its own beating. His head is throbbing and his knuckles are scraped up from hitting the pavement, but he’s seen worse.

Jughead groans as he feels a sudden pressure on his hips and peeks open with one eye to see Betty straddling his waist, looking down at him. He smooths his hands over her thighs and shoots her a sleepy smile.

“Do you want to tell me what actually happened now that Veronica isn’t here? Black eye and bruised knuckles isn’t just a ‘scuffle.’”

The ever-observant Betty Cooper is going to be his undoing.

“Betts, I’m fine. I promise. It’s nothing to worry about. Just a couple of fledgling Ghoulies trying to earn their crossbones.”

It isn’t entirely a lie. It was the Ghoulies, but they definitely weren’t fledgling. He can’t even say he didn’t deserve it, because he definitely did. It’s a small price to pay for not taking Penny’s shit. He isn’t afraid of her, though he probably should be now that he really thinks about it. 

“Why don’t I believe you?” She’s looking at him skeptically and it takes far more energy than he realizes to not blurt out the truth, but he holds fast to his story. 

He reaches up to caress her face with his less scraped hand and she leans into him like she always does. _She can’t be too mad, then_ , he thinks. While she’s distracted, his other hand moves to her hip and he squeezes in a spot he knows will have her squirming. As predicted, her hips grind down on him and her lips part on her exhale.

She looks down and glares, but she rolls her hips against him again and it’s his turn to stifle a groan. His hand slips to the back of her neck and pulls her down so she’s nearly flush on top of him, but stops just before their lips collide. He taps his fingers at the nape of her neck.

“Are you trying to distract me?” Betty asks him. He laughs, puffing his breath across her face.

“Is it working?” he asks, voice low and eyes closed as he nuzzles his nose against hers.

Betty closes the gap between them, small as it was, and presses their lips together. They haven’t talked too much since the playground, never really determined where they stood, but he was never going to be able to resist her. They said they’d figure it all out together. She said she wasn’t going anywhere, that she’d be there for him despite his recovery, despite the possibility of never finding — and subsequently getting custody of — Mattie. Part of him is waiting for her to change her mind, for her to realize that she did want her life out in California, that she wasn’t ready to give up the sun and the sand for trailer parks and milkshakes. But the way her lips press against his, the way her hips move ever so slightly, makes him forget that thought as quickly as it popped into his head.

Her tongue traces his bottom lip before she nibbles down on it and flicks her tongue into his mouth. Every thought is plucked from his head and replaced with sheer pleasure. He groans against her lips and chases her tongue with his, pulling her closer.

He slips his hand into her back pocket and pulls her closer to him, but there are too many layers between them for either of them to be comfortable. He rolls them skillfully to the side. When he’s perched between her thighs, he leans back, sitting up on his knees, and peels off his shirt. 

She sits up, her legs still around his hips, and adds her own shirt to his on the floor. His hands graze from her shoulders down the valley of her breasts to the button of her jeans, which he deftly pops open. Betty falls back on her elbows and watches him as he slowly peels her jeans from her sun-kissed legs and adds them to the growing pile of laundry. He runs his hands up and down her thighs, purposely avoiding anywhere still clothed.

“When was the last time I told you how much I love your legs?” Jughead asks as he slowly kneads the flesh of her thighs.

“Yesterday,” she chuckled, “when I wore that sundress to the grocery store and you couldn’t stop staring.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks, leaning forward to press tender kisses to her stomach. He pulls himself up and lays next to her, one hand still tracing intoxicating circles against her skin. He’s dragging his fingers across the waistband of a different type of underwear than what she used to wear, and he isn’t altogether upset by the new choice. 

“Are you going to do something about it, or just think about it?” Betty asks. He can hear the frustration of his speed in her voice and laughs to himself. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Silly me for wanting to build the anticipation,” he says, taking his hand off of her completely. She huffs and he knows it’s torturing her. “And what is this ‘something’ you’d like for me to do?”

“C’mon, Jug,” she practically whines, and he knows now that he’s going to take even more time.

“My sweet, sweet girl,” he starts. He can feel her shiver. “Why don’t you tell me what it is that you want?”

He can’t remember the last time his voice was this low or gravely, but she doesn’t seem to mind; she never did before. He’s being led by memory and instinct alone, and he’s hoping that he isn’t missing the mark.

“Why don’t I just show you?” Betty says as she sits up and straddles his chest.

He doesn’t put up a fight, but he certainly wasn’t expecting that quick of a reaction. She slowly inches her way up his chest and eventually settles her legs under his arms and hovers just above his face. He is growing harder in his jeans and it’s getting uncomfortable. He palms himself over his pants and Betty clicks her tongue. 

“You’ll get yours. Just be patient,” Betty says, slowly lowering herself to him. 

He pulls her panties to the side and lurches up to taste her. His tongue laps at her as she settles lower and he’s silently thanking her because if he kept it up, his neck would be killing him by the time he was done. Her hips are rocking against his face, chasing his tongue, taking what it is that she wants from him. 

She is sweet and tangy and everything he loves all at once, then one hand is in his hair and her nails are scraping at his skull as a series of moans and mewls echo around them. He had one hand on her hip, following the steady motion; the other is holding her panties to the side, but slowly slips past and two fingers slide into her without warning. 

Her breath catches in her throat and the moan it sounded like she was trying to suppress erupts from her chest. Her hips transition from roll to bounce as she fucks his face and hand. She leans back, her hand palming his erection and he moans against her clit. He can feel her thighs trembling and he picks up the pace, bringing her orgasm like a tidal wave. She is gripping him through his jeans as she comes down from her high, her breath like hiccups as he slides himself out from under her.

He wipes his face on his arm and kneels behind her, where she seems to be stuck in place, her chest heaving. He kisses a slow trail from her shoulder to her neck. “So, you like riding me like that, baby?” his voice is low and sultry in her ear.

She shivers again and his hands trace her curves, pulling her ass closer to him. 

“And what if I do?” she asks, still trying to catch her breath.

He doesn’t respond, he simply kisses at her sweat-slicked skin, nipping gently as he goes. She reaches behind her and unbuckles his belt without looking, popping the button open and managing to get the zipper down, as well. He pops his hips so she can feel him in her hand. He hears a low hum coming from her throat as she loses her balance and lands on her hands — now on all fours. 

“Is this what you want?” he asks, pushing against her again. 

He watches as she nods her head and looks over her shoulder. He pushes his jeans and boxers down just enough to spring free. He runs his hand down her back then back up, threading his fingers through her hair.

He smacks his cock against the cleft of her ass a few times before he lines himself up with her entrance. He slowly pushes himself into her, but she meets him halfway and it goes faster than he had intended. He pulls himself nearly all the way out before snapping his hips back again. 

With one hand at her hip and the other in her hair, he repeats his actions relentlessly despite knowing she’s already sensitive. He can’t help himself; she feels too good fit snugly around him. 

“Fuck, baby, you feel amazing.” _How was I ever going to go the rest of my life without this?_

“Harder, please,” she whimpers.

_Polite, even in the throes of passion_ , he thinks before doing as she asked. He isn’t going to last too much longer at this pace, but he keeps up as best he can before slipping his thumb against her clit and circling her until she splinters again. 

“C’mon, Juggie. Come for me,” she pants, and he does near instantly.

He is still gripping at her hips to steady himself as he tries to catch his breath.

“Goddamn, Betts,” he says before falling to the side and pulling her into him. 

“I still don’t believe you,” Betty teases as she kisses his chest before rolling out of bed and heading into the bathroom. 

\--

She wakes up feeling warm. As she opens her eyes, she realizes one of the curtains was left open, which is why the sun is shining and why the bed is so warm. The remaining warmth she feels has nothing to do with the sun. A smile finds its way to her lips as she leans just a little more against Jughead's body. Over the years she learned that sometimes, if someone was lucky enough, they could get a chance to witness a moment of perfection. This, right here, for her, is perfect. 

Jughead is sleeping soundly, his face relaxed and completely free of his daily struggles and torment. He might be the most gorgeous man she had ever laid her eyes on. Last night had been… _something_. She can’t even find the right words to describe it just yet. 

Knowing she won't be able to fall back to sleep, Betty moves slowly to a sitting position, careful not to disturb Jughead. Her body is deliciously sore, making her remember yet again the way he'd kissed, touched and made love to her. She almost wants to wake him up for more. However, conscious that he needs rest and that they have the entire day ahead, she picks up his flannel shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor, heads to the kitchen and starts the coffee maker. She loves how the flannel feels on her skin along with the way his smell seems to be embracing her. 

One look at the fridge tells her they'll be having eggs and bacon for breakfast. She also finds some bread for the toast and begins to cook. 

While watching the bacon on the pan, Betty looks around for a moment, relishing in the feeling this gives her. The domestic bliss of waking up and making breakfast for Jughead makes her feel at home, and the thought of having this sort of routine every day with him doesn't frighten her. Today is too soon to plan for someday, but she allows herself to hope. 

Betty hears Jughead in the room just as she's setting the plates. His strong footsteps on the wooden floor alert her to his presence, but she doesn't turn, not until she feels his arms around her. 

"I was going to wake you up with breakfast in bed," she whines, pretending to complain.

"The bed was empty," he replies sleepily. He presses a kiss to her forehead. "And there was this amazing smell… I couldn't just _lay_ there, Betts." 

No surprise there. The way to Jughead's heart has always been through his stomach. 

"Alright," she replies, smiling. "You can set the table while I finish cooking."

She waits just another moment for the bacon to get extra crispy — the way she knows he likes it — before setting it all on a plate and starting the eggs. 

"I could get used to this, you know," he says from behind her. Betty turns, finding him already drinking coffee while he watched her reach up to the cabinet above the sink, revealing her lack of undergarments. "You, with me, every morning…" Jughead trails off, seemingly distracted by something. She smiles, walking to him quickly and pressing a kiss on his lips. 

"I love how good my flannel looks on you." Just as he says those words, his hands find their way to the back of her thighs, fingers teasing the edge of his shirt, dancing delicately over the skin just below her ass. 

"Now is not the time for that, mister. The eggs will burn." 

"There are more in the fridge," he replies, using his hands to pull her closer by her ass, making her laugh as he presses soft kisses down her neck.

"I just used the last of the bacon, though." Jughead raises his head, a disappointed look on his face. 

"Alright. But after we eat, I'm taking you to bed and we won't be leaving anytime soon. We can call it a sort of second breakfast." He winks as if she’s not already shivering with anticipation. 

She nods, playfully pushing him away before returning to the stove. 

As predicted, they spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon in bed enjoying each other and talking. It's when they're about to go for round three that Jughead's phone rings and they’re finally interrupted. 

Betty groans at the sound. "Ignore it," she whispers. 

"It could be important," he grumbles against her neck. He moves off of her, grabbing his phone. He pulls her into his side. If it was five years ago, he would have gotten out of bed to take the call. She smiles into his chest at the fact that he doesn’t feel the need to keep her at a distance anymore. “How we lookin, Jinx?” he asks, and Betty perks her head up.

\--

They agree to meet downstairs in an hour, which gives them plenty of time to shower and get dressed — and maybe finish round three if they’re quick. 

The bar is empty; there’s still another hour or so before opening, and Betty wonders if even the regulars would dare come out of their houses in the torrential storm that erupted seemingly out of nowhere. They sit at Jughead's regular table and Sweet Pea comes by with two cups of coffee.

"You have bedhead, dude," he jokes, eyeing Jughead with a lopsided, knowing smile on his face.

Jug narrows his eyes at Sweet Pea, but just as he's about to reply, a knock sounds on the front door. 

"Jinx, my man!" they hear Sweet Pea greet, and Betty can't help but fidget a little in her seat as her mind wanders. She hopes that the Serpent is bringing them good news. 

As Jinx approaches their table, he greets them with a nod. "Jug, Betty, how are you guys doing?" He slides into the booth across from them, setting his tablet on the table.

She considers his question for a moment, and after taking one look at Jughead, she offers Jinx a small smile. "We're good." Jug takes her hand in his, smiling back at her as his thumb strokes her knuckles.

Sweet Pea rolls his eyes at the two of them and groans. Jughead flips him off. 

"Great," Jinx begins, laughing. "Uh, is it safe to speak freely?" Sweet Pea motions his head to the side and walks to where Weasel is playing pool on the other side of the bar. Betty hadn't noticed the boy up until now, and she's surprised he's there and not at home or somewhere with his friends. 

"Yo, time to go, kiddo." Weasel looks immediately troubled.

"But Sweet Pea —" He begins, but Pea cuts him off.

"I know. But you gotta go." The boy doesn't argue, grabbing a tattered backpack from under the table. Betty watches as he reracks the balls into the triangle, leaving the table set up for the next patron before he heads to the door. Almost on cue, a loud clap of thunder sounds, making the windows rattle and the lights flicker. 

"Pea, you can’t send him out into this storm," Betty says. "It's almost biblical outside." 

"He lives nearby, Betty. Don't worry. He’ll be alright if he runs." 

Stubborn as always, she shakes her head. She looks between the four men in front of her and sighs. From what she knows, Weasel is a good kid. Jughead seems to like him quite a bit.

"Weasel, we can trust you, right?" She looks at Jug too as she asks her question. Afterall, he is the Serpent King. Whatever he says goes, and even she respects that.

"Sweets?" Jughead retorts, studying his friend.

"He's a good kid, and he's set to run the next gauntlet." It's all he says, but Betty knows that not every person makes it to the last, most intense part of the Serpent initiation. If he's going to run the gauntlet, it means he has already sworn to the Serpents laws and proven himself a worthy member. 

"Anything you hear in this room doesn’t leave it. Is that clear?" Jughead demands with a strong but calm voice. 

"Yes, sir," Weasel replies instantly. 

"Good. Now get back to your game." That settles it, and just as Weasel is about to turn around, he stops and looks at Betty. 

"Thank you, Miss Betty." She watches him walk away with a smile. 

Jinx clicks the tablet on and Sweet Pea takes his place over Jughead’s shoulder, leaning against the booth. 

"The address checked out,” Jix starts. “This Sister Woodhouse is living in Centerville. From what I gathered, she splits most of her time between a handful of charities — a local soup kitchen and four family shelters. Here are some photos." 

He passes the tablet to Jughead, who sets it in a way that both he and Betty can see. 

"Also, if you keep going, you'll see her having dinner with a couple that most definitely does _not_ belong in that part of Centerville." 

Jinx is right. Betty can tell by the way the couple is dressed — expensive tastes from head to toe — and just their overall demeanour that they aren't locals. 

"You think they're after a kid, too?" Sweet Pea asks as he checks out the photos.

"Definitely," Betty answers, beating Jinx to it. "That's a Birkin bag. I’m sure that doesn’t mean anything to you, but it's worth more than the annual salary of anyone working in Centerville. People like that wouldn't be in that neighborhood for no reason." 

"That's what I thought," Jinx continues. "This is proof that these crib-snatchers are still in business. How do you guys want to proceed?" 

"Very carefully, for one,” Jughead begins. “Sister Woodhouse knows Betty from when she had Mattie at the Sisters of the Quiet Mercy. We’re thinking she would remember her considering how… unorthodox everything went down. We don’t want to tip her off, so we asked Betty's friend to pose as her at the meeting." 

“And you think that will work?” Jinx asks.

“If anyone exudes money, it's Veronica Lodge,” Sweet Pea says with a chuckle.

Though he isn’t wrong, Betty hadn’t actually thought about that aspect of Veronica’s personality helping them. She would play the part immaculately, and Betty had no fear things would go off without a hitch with her in their corner.

"Okay," Jinx says after a moment. "Now it's just a matter of setting up the meeting." 

Betty nods. "We just need to speak with Veronica again before that happens. She's out of town for a couple of days, so we'll have to wait." 

"Just let me know so I can set back up." She looks between Jinx and Jughead for a moment. 

"I’m sorry. Back up?" 

"Me and a few Serpents will be nearby in Centerville while Jughead meets up with the nun, just in case." Surprised, Betty only smiles, wondering if there had been Serpents in Seaside when she and Jughead had gone to find Sister Katherine. 

Their meeting ends soon after that, and as Jinx leaves, Betty and Jughead return upstairs. She knows from the look on his face that he too has hope in his heart once again. 

\--

Over the course of the few days as they wait for Veronica to come back from Chicago, Jughead runs around frantically, trying to make sure this next run goes smoothly. Penny had given him another quick turnover time, plus double the amount of cargo as the last run. They’d need two crews to go this time, putting more lives in danger. He isn’t pleased about it by any means, but he knows it’s what he needs to do to protect everyone.

He’s spending less time with Betty since their meeting with Jinx, and he knows she’s starting to get suspicious. He leaves her sweet notes hidden around the apartment and the trailer. He makes sure to leave a bouquet of her favorite flowers in a vase on the kitchen counter. He even digs out his favorite picture of them from high school and puts it on the nightstand at the apartment.

He knows he’s overdoing it, but he needs to distract her with the cute, little things so she doesn’t notice the plotting and scheming he’s doing in the background. It isn’t that the Serpents are coming first, because they absolutely are not, but he needs to protect everyone. If he can’t, they may as well give up on tracking down Mattie. 

Everything is set. Sweet Pea and Jughead in one truck, Fangs and Toni in another. They’ll leave right after Betty goes to Veronica’s and be back well before she is the next afternoon. He hopes this one goes according to plan. 

They’re sitting on the couch, snuggled into one another as the television plays in the background. His hand rubs up and down Betty’s arm soothingly, trying to hide the fact that he’s terrified of this upcoming run. But she has no idea it’s even happening. He can’t just be _honest_ about these feelings.

“You sure you don’t mind me going to Veronica’s?” Betty asks, almost sad.

“You need girl time,” he says nonchalantly. “I think having Veronica in your life again is a good thing, don’t you?”

“I never said it was a bad thing. I guess I was just hoping to spend some time with you. I feel like you’ve barely been around the last few days.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But we’ll be back to normal soon. I promise.” There was no way he can guarantee that, but it sounds good in the moment and it makes her smile, so it’s worth it.

A knock at the door signals Veronica’s arrival. Jughead kisses Betty soundly, not wanting her to leave but knowing she has to. He waves at Veronica and closes the door quietly behind them. He takes a deep breath before pulling out the backpack of supplies he had hidden from Betty’s view. He turns off the television and the lights and locks the door behind him, heading downstairs to the bar to hit the road once his team arrives.

He and Sweet Pea drive nearly in silence for half the ride, with only the sound of the wind buckling through the cracked window and exhales of cigarettes as the smoke dances along with the radio filling the air between them. 

“So, what’s going on with you and princess?” Sweet Pea finally asks.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Jughead admits. “But whatever it is, I’m certainly not upset about it,” he finishes with a laugh.

They exchange mild small talk as they continue their way to the warehouse with the one broken street light. His truck pulls up, then Fangs’, and they wait in the darkness for their cue to deliver. 

Jughead hears the sound of crunching gravel approaching them and his heart begins to race. _After all this time, why would cops show up?_ he thinks. He looks to Sweet Pea who is trying desperately to see around Jughead, but apparently can’t and shrugs his shoulders. He feels like his neck is going to snap if he keeps trying to find the source of the sound. When a vehicle comes into sight he almost wishes it did.

He’d recognize that car anywhere. Jughead looks to Sweet Pea, then over at the other car where he can see Fangs’ shocked expression through the open windows. The black town car slows to a stop on the opposite side of the warehouse door, parallel with them. 

The driver gets out and opens the door for the passenger. Out steps a dapper man, his head covered with a black fedora, but there’s no doubt in Jughead’s mind as to who it is.

“What the fuck,” Sweet Pea whisper-screams, “is Hiram Lodge doing here?”

.

.

.


End file.
